Those of you who knew me in high school might remember how much I liked to talk on the phone. When my parents had my own phone line installed for my 16th birthday, it was one of the best possible gifts — for me, and for them, because they didn’t have to compete with me for the phone anymore. (Yes, those were the days when you needed to actually install another line. No cell family plans to be had. Geez, this makes it seem like that was the stone ages. It was 1994!)
It will surprise no one to hear that I still like to talk. But the phone — not so much, anymore. Once I’m finally on the other end of a call, I’ll gladly keep it going until the phone battery dies, but I don’t find myself picking it up to make nearly as many calls as I used to, and I’m sorry for what that’s meant for how long I sometimes go without talking to some of my best friends.
Well, I’ve been sitting by the phone almost non-stop since last week’s biopsy, and was happy when the call I was waiting for finally came today. It only took three rounds of phone tag to talk to my doctor (who called me from home, the fantastic guy that he is) and to confirm what we thought: The nodule is cancerous — the same variety as my first go-round, papillary with follicular variant. It’s so small that he isn’t even convinced that I need surgery, but being the risk-averse person I am, I’ll be on the phone tomorrow at 8:30 with my surgeon’s office to make an appointment.
It’s interesting that after talking to my parents, my next instinct was to send some e-mails, and then to write this post. I even texted my brother (but he’s on vacation and should be free to enjoy his trip without cancer calls). I don’t want this to come off as dissuading anyone from calling–I appreciate those calls, really–but I hope you’ll have patience with me when the keyboard is sometimes more comfortable than the phone.