One of these things is not like the other, huh? Well, I got a little early present from the holiday gods: a clear MRI!

Most of the reason for my near-radio silence the past few months is that I’ve been dealing with lots of back-and-forthing to the doctors and ultrasounds and CT scans and blood work and blah blah blah disease fishcakes. After some odd bloodwork in July, getting dicked around by a Huge Health Conglomerate Who Shall Remain Nameless, an ultrasound in October showed iffy spots on my liver that needed to be checked out. But lo (and behold!) they’re apparently only hemangiomas (don’t ask me to pronounce that please) and benign and therefore harmless and all the sleep I’ve lost and worry and generalized anxiety was for naught.

Some of you know that I had surgery and treatment for thyroid cancer in ’06. It’s a weird disease because thyroid cancer (unless it has spread) isn’t treated with traditional radiation and chemo, it’s treated with surgery and radioactive iodine. And I did all that. And I did follow-up tests this year in September that showed I’m clear so that’s good news as well. Thyroid cancer itself is rare (like 2% of all cancers), the type I had is even more rare (like 20% of thyroid cancers), and it’s very survivable. So, I should be done right, and feeling A-OK?

But here’s the thing, and if you’ve ever been diagnosed with cancer you know how this feels, once you’ve had it, the thought of it never really goes away. for lengthiness and angsting and rampant me-monkeyism)

Every little symptom is worrisome. That scrape on my knee where the horse ran me into the fence in July: gee, does that look funny? Why isn’t it healing faster? That pain up under my rib; is that lung cancer? (Hurthle cell carcinoma, my particular little rarity of a cancer does tend to spread to lungs.) That pressure-y feeling in my belly; is that Something Bad? I mean, it just never lets up.

Before the Fucking Cancer, I was the proverbial healthy-as-a-horse type. Really. No surgeries. No children. No car accidents. Except for a broken arm when I was twelve I have NEVER been in a hospital overnight. (The emergency room visit after being bucked off a horse wasn’t Scary; I knew exactly what the fuck was wrong. I got bucked off a horse, damn it.)

So this whole patient/sick/medicine/surgery thing really whacked me out. I don’t want to be one of Those People, you know, the ones who make their lives ALL About their disease. I don’t want to be one of Those People who talk all about their medical issues at a simple “Hi, how are you?” And I don’t think, for the most part, I am one of Those People. I try not to be. I don’t like medical procedures, I do not get positive reinforcement for being a patient, and I’d just really rather not do this any more.

So, here I am at year end with a clean bill of health, a high deductible to pay off (I am seriously going to look into an HSA for next year), and lots of projects to look forward to for ’09. I’ve got several publisher clients to work for; I’ve got two anthologies to produce for Torquere and Lethe respectively; I’ve got trips slated for the Romantic Times convention in Orlando, and Saints & Sinners in New Orleans. Lots going on and lots to look forward to! Raise a glass with me to greet the new year!