14. When You Can't Control the Outcome

There are certain appointments that carry more weight than others.

The ones where you've spent weeks quietly hoping for good news.

The ones where you've convinced yourself that this time, surely, the numbers will tell a different story.

My latest blood test was one of those appointments.

I hoped my TSH would have come down significantly.

I hoped it would give the news that meant my body was starting to get back to ‘normal’.

Instead, the results showed very little improvement.

If I'm honest, it wasn't the news I was hoping for.

For a moment, I felt disappointed.

Looking at It Differently

After sitting with those results for a while, I realised something.

If my blood tests had shown huge improvement, but I was still battling fatigue, brain fog, slow recovery and low energy...

I'd probably have been asking a different question.

"If my thyroid numbers are better... why do I still feel like this?"

In a strange way, the blood results gave me reassurance.

They reminded me that what I was experiencing wasn't imagined.

There was still a reason I felt the way I did.

My body was still healing.

It still needed time.

The Things I Can't Control

This journey has been full of things outside my control.

I couldn't control the diagnosis.

I couldn't control what the pathology would show.

I couldn't control whether I would need surgery.

I couldn't control how my remaining thyroid would respond.

I can't control how quickly my body adjusts to medication.

And I certainly can't control how long recovery will take.

For someone who likes a plan, that's been incredibly hard.

I've always found comfort in working towards a goal.

Making a plan.

Ticking off the next step.

Finding a solution.

But healing doesn't always work that way.

Sometimes there isn't another box to tick.

Sometimes the only thing left to do... is wait.

The Things I Can Control

That doesn't mean I'm powerless.

It simply means my focus has had to change.

I've started asking myself a different question.

"What can I control today?"

I can take my medication each morning; at the same time, on an empty stomach, an hour before food/drink.

I can nourish my body with food that supports healing and my medication.

I can stay hydrated.

I can move when my body is ready and rest when it asks me to.

I can ask questions, advocate for my health, and continue learning.

I can lean on the people who love me.

I can choose hope, even on the days when progress feels painfully slow.

And I can choose gratitude for the things my body can do today, instead of focusing only on what it can't.

None of those things guarantee the outcome I'm hoping for.

They won't magically change my blood results overnight.

But they are the things that give my body the best chance to heal.

They're also the things that remind me I still have a role to play in my own recovery.

A Lesson That Goes Far Beyond Health

The more I've thought about it, the more I've realised this isn't really a lesson about thyroid cancer at all.

It's a lesson about life.

There are so many things we simply can't control.

We can't control unexpected diagnoses.

We can't control the weather on race day.

We can't control traffic when we're running late.

We can't control another person's choices, opinions or feelings.

We can't stop difficult seasons from arriving.

We spend so much energy wishing those things were different.

But what if we shifted our focus?

What if, instead of asking, "Why is this happening?" we asked, "What can I do with what's in front of me?"

I can't choose every circumstance.

But I can choose how I respond.

I can choose whether frustration or gratitude leads the way.

I can choose whether I let disappointment define my day or simply become part of it.

I can choose kindness.

Patience.

Perspective.

Hope.

Those choices don't remove life's challenges.

But they often change the way we walk through them.

A Different Kind of Progress

If you'd asked me a year ago how I measured progress, I probably would have talked about race times.

Training sessions.

Fitness.

Results.

Today, progress looks different.

It's recognising that I need a rest before I reach complete exhaustion.

It's celebrating a good day without fearing a bad one.

It's accepting that healing isn't linear.

It's finding joy in a coffee by the beach.

A dinner with friends.

A hug from my children.

A walk with the dog.

Progress isn't always measured in numbers.

Sometimes it's measured in perspective.

What I'm Learning

I'm learning that I can't force my body to heal faster.

I can't rush the medication.

I can't will my blood results to change.

But I can choose how I meet each day.

I can choose patience over frustration.

Hope over fear.

Gratitude over resentment.

And I can keep showing up for myself, even when progress feels painfully slow.

Because maybe life was never meant to be about controlling every outcome.

Maybe it's about doing our very best with what we can influence, and learning to let go of what we can't.

For now, my blood results haven't changed as much as I'd hoped.

But perhaps something else has.

I've stopped waiting for everything around me to change before I allow myself to find peace.

Instead, I'm learning that peace can begin with the choices I make today.

One small choice at a time.

Hope isn't pretending everything will be okay.

Hope is choosing to keep taking the next step,

even when you don't yet know where the path will lead.

Healing has taught me that I don't need to know where every turn in the path leads. I just need the courage to keep taking the next step.