Story
Name
Marie Perkerewicz
Injury/Illness
Cancer
This past year has truly been a rollercoaster filled with both challenges and moments of resilience. It all began unexpectedly on November 13th, 2023. That morning, as I prepared for work, I suddenly became overwhelmed with intense dizziness, nausea, and an alarming racing heart. My husband, ever supportive, quickly sprang into action, taking me to the emergency room where we faced a series of tests.
During this time, we were alerted by our Carbon Monoxide alarm, which led to the fire department being called to our home. It turned out that our furnace had a serious airflow issue, resulting in dangerous carbon monoxide levels. Thankfully, both my husband and I received prompt treatment for carbon monoxide poisoning, and we were relieved to learn that there appeared to be no lasting effects. However, while the medical team was working to uncover the cause of my dizziness, they discovered something truly unexpected during a head CT scan. What they found—or rather, what was missing—led to further examinations, including an MRI and a referral to a neurologist. It was then that I learned I was missing my right frontal lobe, a result of a car accident I had experienced when I was just 19 years old.
The path to understanding my condition involved cognitive testing, and a deep dive into my medical and personal history. Thankfully, it was determined that I am generally healthy on the brain front, with yearly monitoring in place. As long as my headaches and migraines remain manageable, I can focus on the positives and appreciate the support I've received throughout this tumultuous journey.
On July 13th, 2024, I found myself in the emergency room, struggling with severe stomach pain, nausea, and vomiting. After undergoing an abdominal CT scan to get to the bottom of my discomfort, I received results that, while not providing a clear answer for my stomach issues, revealed a large nodule on my thyroid. This unexpected news led to an array of further tests, blood work, and an ultrasound of my thyroid and neck.
The ultrasound revealed a large nodule in my left thyroid, roughly the size of a lemon, along with several smaller nodules in my right thyroid. Given the size of the nodule on the left, my doctors deemed it necessary to pursue additional testing, including a biopsy to identify what this nodule was. Unfortunately, the biopsy findings were inconclusive, only suggesting it might be a "follicular nodule."
During this challenging time, I was fortunate to connect with an incredible endocrinologist who has been a true source of support. Based on my blood work and the ambiguous biopsy results, I was diagnosed with Hashimoto's Disease. My doctor explained the medical situation with such care, recommending surgery due to the multiple nodules and expressing concern about the possibility of cancer. It was a lot to process, but with her guidance, I felt a sense of hope moving forward.
On November 13th, 2024, just a week after my 35th birthday, my husband and I set off for Bismarck for an important surgery. After considerable thought, we decided it was best to remove my entire thyroid. The idea was to potentially avoid two surgeries if cancer was present. Now, looking back on that decision, I can say with certainty that it was the right one. What was expected to be a routine procedure, lasting about 90 minutes to 2 hours, turned into a much longer three-hour surgery. The surgeon had a surprising update for us: what appeared to be the size of a lemon on the ultrasound was actually more comparable to an apple. The smaller growths, which we thought were peanuts or grapes, turned out to be the size of golf balls. He explained that they were pressing against my esophagus and wrapping around my spine, which made the surgery more complex than we had anticipated.
We were told we would receive the results within a week, either through a phone call or at my follow-up appointment for stitch removal. As the days passed, waiting became an emotional struggle. Recovery was more challenging than I had imagined; uncomfortable felt like an understatement. The pain was significant. I struggled to get more than a few hours of sleep at a time, and I now know the bizarre feeling of having Sprite unexpectedly come out of my nose after a sip.
On the morning of my appointment, unease settled in. I hadn’t received any phone call, and my instincts told me that something wasn't right. They say bad news is usually better delivered in person, but that wasn’t much help. When we arrived at the clinic, my nerves were on edge. Hearing the words “It is indeed cancer” was a moment I will never forget. I found myself asking them to repeat what they just said. Even though I'd had a gut feeling that something was wrong, being told outright brought a wave of dread. It was one of those times when being right wasn’t comforting at all. Still, the doctors reassured me that they were confident they had removed all the cancerous tissue. That reassurance gave me a small flicker of hope as I faced the uncertainty ahead.
I’ve had many rounds of bloodwork and testing for tumor markers, and my endocrinologist is wonderfully proactive. I’ll be meeting with her again in a week to discuss more test results and undergo additional tests. Despite the challenges of surgeries, imaging, and endless tests, we’re managing to navigate this journey. The struggle is real, balancing time off for recovery, numerous doctor appointments, and the side effects from the medications, but we’re determined to push through. While I’m not out of the woods just yet, I have faith that 2025 will bring clarity, healing, and the simple joys of life with my husband, kids, cats, and dogs. God bless!