When Mike and I first began our adventure into the sometimes scary world of infertility treatment I became a little obsessed with statistics and probability. I asked every specialist we saw about our “chances” of conceiving, wrote down all of their answers, and we used this information to make choices about which medical approach to take. Mike had surgery to increase our chances, I had a full range of tests, pokes and prods, and we finally settled on IVF as our best option, with a few additions like chiropractic care and acupuncture to boost the odds. There were no guarantees of course, but the specialists agreed that it was our best shot. We were so fortunate to achieve a healthy pregnancy through IVF, and we were doubly blessed to have twins. In the general population, twins occur about 3% of the time. In our particular case, we knew the odds of having twins were slightly higher because of the IVF procedure, if we were able to conceive at all. Long story short, we felt like lottery winners when we found out we were expecting and we felt like two in a million when learned we were expecting twins. In this case, we were unlucky to be in small percentage of people who experience infertility, but incredibly lucky to be in the group within that group who go on to have healthy babies.

 

Recently I had the opportunity to obsess again about stats and probability. At the risk of hijacking Evan and James’ blog, I’m going to talk a little about myself now (Catherine the person, not Catherine the mum). I had a bit of bad luck on Wednesday when I heard the surprising news that I have thyroid cancer. I’ve been having issues with thyroid function over the last several months (probably since the boys were born). I went from 188 lbs at the end of my pregnancy to 122 lbs within a few months. My normal, pre-pregnancy weight is between 150-155 lbs, so we were concerned. But when you’re busy with twins and rarely have time to sit down it seems inevitable that you might lose a little extra weight. In October some blood work done by my family doctor revealed extremely high levels of thyroid hormone, so I was referred to an endocrinologist for more tests and treatment. In December I learned that I had Grave’s disease and began taking medication to regulate my thyroid function. Luckily, I responded very well to the medication and although Grave’s disease is usually a life-long condition, my doctor said I was doing very well and that there was even a slight chance of remission one day. Around the same time I had a routine ultrasound to check my thyroid. A nodule showed up, but since nodules are common in Grave’s patients and usually not problematic, I didn’t give it much thought. The doctor booked me in for a biopsy as a matter of protocol, but assured me that nodules are non-cancerous 96% of the time. Honestly, when I had my biopsy last Monday cancer was the last thing on my mind. The odds, after all, were in my favour. I’ve been riding a wave of good luck lately, and just assumed it would continue. That’s why it came as such a shock on Wednesday when the doctor called to let me know that in this particular case I’m not in the lucky group of 96%.

 

BUT, and this is a big “but”, I do consider myself lucky. Thyroid cancer is treatable. It’s probably one of the most successfully treated cancers around, and in my mind it’s a no-panic cancer. Although it’s rare (only about 15,000 cases each year in North America), I do happen to know one other person who had thyroid cancer a couple of years ago and today she is one of the most vibrant, healthy people I know. So that makes me feel lucky to have a treatable form of cancer and positive about the future. I’m going to have a total thyroidectomy and am waiting to hear from a surgeon about dates and times. During the surgery the doctors will check my lymph nodes to make sure no bad cells have spread, but I feel confident everything will be fine. Afterward I’ll likely have radioactive iodine therapy, and that will mean some time in isolation away from my boys, which is a drag, but I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure this whole situation is resolved. Thousands of people are walking around without their thyroids at this very moment, living wonderfully healthy lives with the help of thyroid-replacement drugs, and I’ll be joining that lucky group.

 

Modern medicine gave Mike and I our twin boys and now it’s going to give me some help again. But this time around I have two of the cutest personal cheerleaders in the world to make the whole experience more manageable. Of course I’ll miss my boys when I’m in the hospital, but since they scream with glee when I get back from the washroom can you imagine how excited they’re going to be to see me after a few days?! I’m going to hang on to that thought.