A Grateful Update: My Thyroid Surgery & A Miracle of Healing

Hello, dear family and friends —

I’m writing from a place of deep gratitude and grace to share a very personal chapter of my life—and to say thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Back in 2008, when I was a pharmaceutical sales representative, one of my favorite clients was a kind physician named Dr. Bergman, who gently asked, “What’s going on with your throat? You should have your thyroid checked.” That small question began a long watch: ultrasounds, biopsies, and the quiet knowing that a nodule was growing and being monitored. For years, I was an obedient patient—checking in, breathing through the waiting, trusting the rhythm of care. My mother and maternal aunt had both faced similar thyroid issues in their 40s, so part of me carried that intergenerational thread too: worry braided with hope.

Life moved in its sweeping, beautiful way. In 2017, we packed our condo, moved across states, celebrated the miracle of pregnancy, and welcomed our sweet Ryane on March 1, 2018. We built a life in a new place, found our feet, and then moved again—this time to the Detroit area in 2019, a city that stretched and challenged me in ways I hadn’t expected. It’s also where we spent 16 months in complete isolation due to COVID. There were seasons when I felt incredibly alone—crying quietly, putting on a smile, and leaning on faith to carry me through the long gray winters and the heavy days when everything felt like too much.

In 2023, I finally revisited my thyroid history. In February 2025, after an ultrasound and further testing, my physician’s (my angel Dr. Mulpuri’s) concern became mine: the nodule had grown so large it was obstructing more than half of my airway. The images were sobering. My ENT, Dr. Fozo, explained lovingly and plainly: my thyroid needed to come out. Because of where it had grown—hidden behind my breastbone—the surgeons would need to perform a sternotomy, opening my entire breastbone to remove it safely.

When I heard the words “surgery and cutting my breastbone,” a flood of emotions came—fear, gratitude, disbelief, and a deep, quiet surrender. I was terrified of losing my voice, of the pain, of the unknown. And yet, alongside fear—outpacing the fear, I felt a steady thread of faith. This was never only a medical journey; it was a soulful reckoning. It asked me to look inward and to tend the places where grief, shame, and old, protective stories lived in my body—lived in my thyroid.

From an energetics and metaphysical perspective, the thyroid corresponds to the Throat Chakra — the fifth energy center that governs expression at the base of the throat. It’s the center for communication, self-expression, and the capacity to speak one’s truth. For me, this felt deeply symbolic: so much of the inner work I’ve done, and the work I do with other high-achieving women, centers on reclaiming voice, releasing the mask of perfection, and stepping into visibility without shame. Tending this gland became, in its own way, tending my capacity to be heard, to be seen, and to live in alignment with my true voice.

Between March and the end of August, my days were filled with appointments, scans, and the compassionate labor of nurturing and healing my inner life. Spiritually, I leaned hard into my God-centered practice at Detroit Unity Temple. I doubled down on affirmative prayer, radical forgiveness, and the energetic practices that reminded me I am not my fears—I am a beloved child of the Divine. I listened to my body’s whispers and learned to trust the intuitive wisdom that lives within me.

On the morning of August 29, I went into the hospital wrapped in prayer and the presence of loved ones’ support. After three and a half hours, I woke in recovery. I was told that an average thyroid is 15 grams—my thyroid + nodule was 154 grams (the size of a heart). Wires, tubes, and bandages told the story of what had been done. I was in severe pain, yes. But my voice remained strong. My nerves were intact. My parathyroids were functioning. I was still me—and I was overflowing with gratitude.

I came home on August 31—my father’s 83rd birthday—to a house cushioned in love. For the last 19 days, your prayers, texts, flowers, cards, meals, gifts, and visits have carried me. Sisters sat on the phone to pray with me days leading up to and on the morning of surgery. Friends dropped by for tea. Clients sent notes of encouragement. My besties, AKA, Links, Jack & Jill, and Junior League communities—you held me. When people asked, “What can I do?” my answer was, “Pray with and for me,” and you responded with a chorus of faithful, warmhearted praying hands.

I’ve been reflecting a lot, and a single word kept rising up to describe this season: BLESSED.

This has been a vivid reminder that healing is more than a medical outcome—it is an unfolding of grace, community, and courage. It’s an invitation to lay down the “Mask of Perfection” so we can live with more honesty, tenderness, and presence.

I am healing—slowly, carefully, gratefully. My movement is limited (no lifting over five pounds and riding in the backseat), but my heart is wide. I’ve still been able to do small, joyful things: pick up Ryane from school, attend a knitting class, host tea with friends, and bake a birthday cake. These simple moments feel like sacred medicine.

I share this because if I can find my way back to wholeness through prayer, care, and the love of community, so can you. If you’re holding hidden grief, shame, or exhaustion, please know you don’t have to carry it alone. Healing and wholeness are your birthright.

If you feel moved to reply, I would love to hear from you. Your words mean the world. Please leave a comment below or email me at ryane@inspirebrandconsulting.com.

PS: I want to express a very special thank you to my husband Micah Ragland, my brave daughter Ryane, my parents Brenda Irons-LeCesne and Alvarez LeCesne, and all of my besties–I love you more than words could ever express. Thank you for loving me so fully and completely 💖