Joy Steele

Dear The Invisible, You've tried to get the best of me. But I'm a warrior. A lump in my jaw led to the discovery of a nodule on my thyroid. Doctors did a biopsy and eventually removed it. Everyone told me I was so lucky to have "the good cancer." Chemo and radiation wouldn't be necessary. That's when you came into my life. The thing about you, Invisible, is you're sneaky. I could go about my life looking like nothing had happened, but that meant people didn't see the pain you brought me: the hot flashes, the metabolism changes, the emotional effects, the soreness in my muscles and joints. They didn't see the different medications that made me feel fine for a while, and then suddenly didn't, rendering me barely able to get out of bed for weeks at a time. People don't realize that sometimes, what they cannot see is the most dominant force in the room. You were also there when my longtime partner left me upon my diagnosis. He said he had his own health issues to worry about, and wouldn't support me through mine. To the outside world, I still looked fine. But emptiness was there. Loneliness was there. You were there, trying to take me down. There was the breast cancer scare. I wondered what you'd make disappear: My breasts, my hair, my life? You let me suffer while I worried, unbeknownst to the outside world. Finally, thankfully, my tumor was deemed benign. I went back to being a thyroid warrior, the cancer patient with the symptoms no one can see. Like thousands of other thyroid warriors, I realized I couldn't let you dictate my life. I had to take control of you. That's why last summer, I began volunteering with A Gift of Hair Because We Care in my town of Wasaga Beach, Ontario. In our first event, we raised 34 ponytails and thousands of dollars to help children with cancer get wigs. I donated 10 inches of my own hair. With a recent breast cancer scare, I knew it was important to take my hair before you could. I'm not afraid of you anymore, Invisible. In fact, I embrace you. I love an empty pint glass after I've made a golden craft beer disappear. I love the empty plates I leave after my new partner, a chef, cooks me healthy meals. I love that, in our second year of A Gift of Hair Because We Care, a motorcycle guy named Art raised money by shaving off a beard he's had since 1974. Sometimes what people cannot see is the most beautiful force in the room. Just to take you down a peg, Invisible, I've made my thyroid issues not only visible, but beautiful. Now on my wrist, there's a tattoo of a butterfly — the shape of a thyroid — with the letters F.C. inside. What does F.C. stand for? Well, if you can't figure it out, I'm going to keep the answer… invisible. Sincerely, Joy