MY FRIEND once told me, “Just think of it as your trophy of bravery.” She was referring to my scar, the one that resulted from the neck surgery that was performed on me last summer.
Life is indeed comparable to a roller-coaster ride. The ride is exciting because of the inconsistency of the journey. The ups and downs may leave different impressions on people: Some may consider them exciting, while others may become fearful. Surprisingly, in my case, I have experienced parts of both excitement and fear.
When I was 14 years old, I was diagnosed to have hypothyroidism. At first I thought of the lump as only a common nodule, so I didn’t pay attention to it. But one Sunday, while my family and I were enjoying a lunch treat, my mom noticed the lump in my neck. My father subsequently took me to a hospital for tests, and we went back the very next day to check if the lump was benign or cancerous. At first I was confident of a good result because nothing was painful or bothersome at that moment. So I assumed that everything was fine.
Who knew that it would be the start of my “journey”?
For five years I endured blood tests and a neck ultrasound routine. I became used to going to the hospital every two months. But the painful experience of endless medical examinations was nothing compared to the agony of waiting for the results. It was just like wondering how we did in a school exam: As students, we would hope for a high score so we could say that we did our best. In my case, I would just hope for the best: that I would have a normal, functioning thyroid.
Being a teenager undergoing the “adjustment period” of puberty and being a hypothyroidism patient at the same time made up quite a challenge for me. Nevertheless, I realized that I was still lucky to be supported by my family every step of the way. So I chose to stay strong, to fight the battle with them, and to put my faith in God.
Despite my struggles in my high school life because of my health condition, I knew that God never left me. I was still able to graduate with honors and, later, to pass the University of the Philippines’ college admission test. I was still blessed to experience another colorful chapter in my life.
When I entered UP Visayas, everything seemed new to me—a new environment, new acquaintances, and a new daily routine. All went smoothly and my health condition improved, maybe because of the natural environment of my second home.
But by the end of the second semester in my sophomore year the lump in my neck had again increased in size. The doctors told me I should stop medication because it no longer had an effect on the enlarged cystic nodule. The inconsistency of the lump’s size made it a challenge to determine the appropriate medication; the dosage had to be adjusted repeatedly. But the point was that the lump would never be gone; it would just be there, attached to my lobe. Eventually the doctors advised me to undergo a surgical procedure in order to totally get rid of the cyst.
Coincidentally, the UP system was then preparing for a calendar shift in order to align with the planned Asean Economic Community—and it would mean a four-month summer vacation. I took that as a sign from God. My parents asked me from time to time if I was emotionally and mentally prepared for the surgery because it was the perfect time to undergo it, and there would be two or three months allotted for recovery. I agreed to it and embarked on physical, mental and emotional preparations. I forced myself to eat healthily and tried to maintain an exercise routine to make sure that I would be fit for the surgery.
On April 23, 2014, I had a successful thyroid lobectomy and isthmoid ectomy under the expertise of my doctors in Iloilo City. I am grateful to them and to Almighty God for giving me another chance for a normal life and a new beginning.
Although I experienced a rough start and the recovery stage was challenging, I have chosen to live with the expression “mind over matter” and to overcome all negativity. Funny, because I even told myself to pretend to be a butterfly: Before this tiny being becomes a beautiful creature, it has to first live as a caterpillar wrapped up in a cocoon. It became an effective motivation for my healing and recovery process.
I always reminded myself that I would be perfectly fine someday, that maybe I was still a caterpillar struggling in the metamorphosis of life. I was pretty sure that I would spread my wings someday, like a butterfly.
Now, almost a year after the surgery, I can say that I’m living a normal life as a young adult with dreams and goals ahead of me. I’m more proactive now than in the past, and seeking opportunities has become my priority. I have acquired three certificates of merit for being a college scholar, and I am still doing my best.
Taking care of what’s left of me is somehow good motivation for me to maintain a better and healthier lifestyle. For some people, a scar may serve as a reminder of a bad fate, or a grievous mistake or flaw. As for me, a scar will always remind me of the point in my life when I decided to face my reality and chose to be brave. It will always remind me of the fragility of life, and the necessity of living every moment like it’s my last.
God may give us a second chance, but that also means living life more meaningfully because maybe there is still something we have to do. And I have realized that in this lifetime, to have the willingness to find that mission, I should first experience some sort of a “wake-up call,” something that will remarkably remind me of how precious life is.
I should have a scar.
Pauline B. Clores, 19, is in the third year of her course in communication and media studies at UP Visayas in Miagao, Iloilo.