I remember something Vlad, my older son, once told me. We were sitting at the table, and he suddenly looked at me and asked, "Mom, will that scar on your neck ever go away?" And I told him, "No, Vlad, no, it won't go away; it will stay like this. It's a scar. It will always be there." And he said, "But I think you're more beautiful with it because now you have two smiles. One is on your neck, and one is on your face."

I was diagnosed with thyroid cancer when I was three months pregnant. I was pregnant with Toma, my younger son. But this is how it all happened: during my first visit to the doctor, the gynecologist—the visit to confirm the pregnancy, which went very well—both the doctor and I were super happy, and everything seemed fine. At the end, I also mentioned this thing, that I had noticed a nodule at the base of my neck, a few weeks earlier. And I remember that she had a very... she seemed a bit scared somehow and told me to go immediately to an endocrinologist and get an ultrasound because there was something wrong with my thyroid.

Anyway, I don’t know how I took it, but I didn't even know where the thyroid was, to be honest. I think I had only been in the hospital twice in my entire life, once when I was pregnant with my first child and then during my teenage years when I had a sudden appendicitis. But other than that, I had been pretty healthy all my life. Even now, I rarely catch a cold; I don't get sick often.

So, I went to the ultrasound, and the doctor told me it was something strange because the nodule was very large, and she asked when I had first noticed it. I told her I had noticed it not long ago and that it was large from the start. It's not like it grew and I observed it growing. She said it was a bit strange because it was quite large. The ultrasound wasn’t conclusive; she couldn't tell me what type of nodule it was, so I had to get a biopsy.

The result came back in two or three weeks, and she told me it wasn't good. I remember my first reaction... it shocked me... Then I remember the absolute eerie feeling I felt when I associated the word "cancer" with myself. It felt like something from another world, like suddenly... And after that eerie feeling, the next thing I remember feeling was a strong and immediate desire to go play with Vlad, my older son. It was as if: now, I have to go now, I have to make the most of every moment. I have to go and play with him.

I went for several check-ups, asked for a second opinion... basically, everyone agreed. The nodule had to be removed; surgery had to be done as soon as possible. But all the doctors said it wasn’t urgent, and I had some options. One option was to terminate the pregnancy and have surgery immediately. The other option was to carry the pregnancy to term and have the surgery immediately after, with the condition of frequently monitoring the nodule to see if it would start to behave strangely, in which case I would have to go into an emergency surgery.

And I chose to carry the pregnancy to term, obviously, because it was something I had really wanted. It wasn’t until the post-surgery biopsy that the diagnosis would be confirmed. I even received an opinion from a very good doctor, with very good recommendations, who said it might not even be malignant, as it was borderline. That’s what the biopsy showed; it was borderline, with some small question marks. I clung to that, not sure if I really believed it, but I held onto it throughout the pregnancy, trying to stay as positive as possible... because there’s this belief that a mother needs to be as positive as possible during pregnancy so as not to affect the baby's development and ensure everything goes well. And I tried, I tried to stay as positive as possible.

So, I had to go for check-ups once a month. And it seemed to be under control, meaning nothing strange happened, except that the nodule grew slightly each time. It wasn’t alarming, but it was growing. The doctors' version was that during pregnancy, due to the changes the body undergoes, everything is growing, so naturally, this nodule was also growing. It was normal for it to grow like that.

So I carried the pregnancy to term, and everything went very well. I didn’t have any problems. In fact, I have never felt unwell since... I don’t know, from the first day I noticed the nodule until today, with a few small exceptions, I never felt physically unwell. There was no change, practically, except that now, I get tired more quickly.

I carried the pregnancy to term. I had a C-section, although I had given birth naturally the first time, because there was a slight... There was a slight concern that due to the effort of natural childbirth, the nodule might rupture. I don’t know, when I heard that, I said: no way, I'm having a C-section. And I had a C-section. And it was wonderful. Toma scored a perfect 10 at birth. He was very big, very healthy. It was as if everything had been absolutely normal.

Exactly one month after the birth, I had the surgery. And the diagnosis was confirmed. Only, it turned out to be a slightly less dangerous variant of thyroid cancer than the one initially indicated by the biopsy diagnosis. But again, it’s a non-dangerous form of cancer, I am told, with very good predictions… I don’t know what the exact term for that is.

The surgery went well. I remember there was this nurse who was super positive around me, with this bright energy, who helped me a lot before I went into surgery, because I was quite panicked. She came in like a ray of light, took my hand, held it... And even afterward, when I woke up, she woke me up by having me repeat the sentence: I have two boys. And I remember waking up from surgery smiling because I was saying... because I woke up saying that. And I remember that nurse fondly.

So that's about it. I recovered very quickly. But the doctor told me after the surgery that they found two lymph nodes where the cancer had spread. And they removed everything. They took out the entire thyroid and the two lymph nodes.

The procedure after thyroid cancer surgery is that you need to undergo radioactive iodine treatment, which specifically targets the remaining thyroid cells, because there are always some cells left in that area. To destroy all the cells and eliminate any danger, you have to undergo radioactive iodine treatment. This means you are admitted to the hospital, take a pill, have to stay isolated for about three days in the hospital, and then completely isolate yourself for two to four weeks, depending on the case.

The hardest thing about this treatment was the isolation from my children. That was the hardest part for me. Somehow, that was the most difficult thing to bear. The fact that I had to be away from my children, especially from Toma, who was only a few months old. The first time I had the treatment, he was six months old, and the second time, he was one year and six months old.

I underwent this treatment twice, and it didn’t work. I don’t know why; the doctors can’t tell me why, so I still have a small piece of thyroid tissue there that stays dormant and doesn’t do anything. It’s under observation, and it didn’t want to disappear. I don’t know why. Maybe I need something to remind me all the time of the lessons I’ve learned.

Because that’s what it is. I think it’s the biggest lesson I’ve ever received. As it probably happens to everyone who goes through something similar. And that’s how I feel: that tissue remains there so I won’t forget these lessons, because usually I tend to forget. I’m generally more optimistic and tend to forget unpleasant things easily, and I probably forget the lessons also. And I think that tissue stayed there so I won’t forget this time.

I practically divide my life into two parts. The part before the diagnosis and the part after. Yes, so I practically lived one way for 39 years, almost... and two and a half years in another way. Well, it didn’t happen all at once. It happened progressively, but it was like waking up from a life spent wandering through fog, practically, a life in whichI didn’t entirely belong to myself. And for the first time... I felt it like a punch, really, the whole... Like you’re walking calmly down the street and suddenly get punched out of nowhere. That’s exactly how I felt about this whole event. Before, you were optimistic and smiling, but in a naive way, and suddenly, you received this punch that somehow made you realize how things really are.

And in general, I believe that everything happens for a reason, and there are explanations... I don’t know if they are clear explanations for why things happen, but I believe things happen for a reason. I remember asking the doctors what the causes of thyroid cancer were, and they all told me the causes are unknown. I only know that the period during which this happened to me - was the most stressful period, physically and emotionally, mainly emotionally, for me.

I would never pay any attention to myself. I would somehow always be on the back burner, and it seemed to me that I was the last person in any context who should matter.

I made all sorts of changes in my life. It seems to me that I progressively eliminated everything and everyone that was toxic and unhelpful from my life... not to mention everything and everyone who was harming me. I became very selective with the things I allow around me, the things I let into my life, the things I give attention to. It completely and radically changed how I see myself and the things around me.

I had a significant lack of emotional support during that time. I don't know, that's just how it happened. I simply didn't have it. And I think I felt a very strong need to talk about it, but I didn't have the means or anyone to talk to. Gradually, I became aware that I wanted to meet and talk to other people who had gone through similar or vaguely similar experiences, who were going through difficult times... on one hand, and on the other hand, I became very interested in... after reading a lot about cancer, about diseases, about why people get sick, how the body holds onto trauma, I became particularly interested in... essentially, why women get sick more often than men do. I found this in a book. There are serious scientific studies that demonstrate this. And all these explanations—of course, women are chronically subjected to greater stress from all sides: domestic, emotional, familial, and of course, professional as well. And somehow, they always have to juggle hundreds of pressures coming from the outside and keep everything in balance, while also being the emotional pillars of the family. All these things undermine your health at some point, in ways that we might not even be aware of.

Because I view this event in my life so positively, from every point of view... I mean, it essentially did me nothing but good. I don't want to be cynical, but beyond this diagnosis on paper, it brought only good things into my life. It made me more balanced, stronger, more independent, more confident, and... it simply helped me connect more with myself, and listen to myself. I've come to believe that sometimes, in life, the things that seem negative in the moment—something bad happens, and at the time it really is bad—but after a while, that bad thing takes on a different... appears in a different light, and somehow, it turns out it was actually something very positive that manifested itself in that particular way because if it had come in another way, you probably wouldn't have noticed it. Yes, I believe that sometimes the ugly, bad things that happen to us can actually be very good things.