Bad, Good, Ugly

"We found a few benign cells," the doctor tells me over the phone, but before I can breathe a sigh of relief, he quickly finishes, "but not enough to rule it as benign."

"So it's inconclusive again?" I ask, thinking about the inconclusive statistic which means imminent surgery.

"No, not inconclusive, just... not benign."

So, not cancer, but not benign.

In my flow chart of hypothesized outcomes, this wasn't one of them. He then looked over my blood work to see if I was eligible for medication to shrink the tumors. "No," he tsked. "Your levels are high, so any medication would not only be useless to you, but it would also throw your body into hyperthyroidism."

"Hyper? As in rapid weight loss?" I asked.

"Yes, as in eyes bugging out of your head," he corrected.

"Oh."

He gently encouraged me to have the surgery to remove my thyroid and "put this behind [me] and move on with [my] life." When I told him I was not ready to have surgery yet, he then gave me the option of waiting another six months and having a third biopsy to see if there are any changes. I greedily accepted and promised him that if I felt any pain in my neck, or noticed it larger in size, I would have it out immediately.

In other news, I had to have a different biopsy on a very scary part of my body, but that came back all clear with nothing wrong. The relief of a benign biopsy made me giddy.

In other other news, they are laying off 20% of my company tomorrow. The shit keeps a commin'.