The doctor clearly warned us that leiomyosarcoma has a higher recurrence rate than most other sarcomas. At the time, we didn’t fully understand what that entailed, and even the internet offered little insight. I looked everywhere—Google, PubMed, the hospital library, oncology journals—and found only fragments of research, scattered case reports, and repeated phrases like: 

“Extremely rare. Poorly understood. Aggressive behavior. High recurrence rate.” The surgeon who operated on my grandma advised radiation therapy for a few months to ensure there was no microscopic spread. However, when we visited the radiation department, the doctors claimed it wasn’t necessary because the tumour was entirely removed, and no metastasis was evident. I wasn’t present then, but my aunt later told me that the radiation team distressed my grandma more than reassured her, emphasising side effects like fatigue, nausea, and burns, and convincing her the treatment would only cause suffering. Believing she was safe, my grandma thought she was out of danger. Unfortunately, neither the oncologist nor the radiation team informed the ENT surgeon who performed her thyroidectomy, nor did they follow up or reassess her condition. 

The situation was quietly closed, without anyone realising that her story wasn’t over. Months passed; she took her medications—thyroid-stimulating hormone, calcium, painkillers- faithfully, with family ensuring she did. By mid-November, she could speak again, her voice soft but present. The scar faded, blending with wrinkles, and she started to smile, go out, meet people, and attend family gatherings, seeming like herself once more. But then, she noticed it: the familiar weight and a slight swelling under her neck’s skin, the same lump, quietly returning like a lingering nightmare.