I explained to my doctor that I can barely stand up without needing to rest these days, that I feel as if my body is running a marathon even when I'm lying down, that the muscle fatigue is getting so bad that I have to pull up a chair to the stove when I make macaroni and cheese because I can't stand long enough without assistance. My mind is cloudy and I'm forgetting basic things like where a stamp goes on an envelope or my zip code. And what did I do yesterday? I've got no idea. I can't remember simple short-term details. Did I take my meds three minutes ago? I have to check which day of the week is empty in my pill case. My legs are covered in bruises, my skin is sandpaper dry, I'm freezing. I'm so nauseated that I'm taking medicine to make me not throw up, I'm so anxious that I'm taking more medicine to soothe my nerves, and I've got no desire to eat. My emotions are all over the place and I'm crying at the drop of a hat, filled with anger instantly, and sad that I'm stuck on the couch for seven hours or more a day. But the worst of it is the fatigue. I just can't move.
I dragged myself to the appointment. I typed up my list of medicine and symptoms and waited for the doctor to say Let's change your dose and I'll see you in two months. But he didn't. He looked back in my charts and noticed the pattern: fatigue, inability to walk, brain fog. He said that I'm exhibiting both hyperthyroidism and hypothyroidism symptoms and he has no idea why. While filling out an evaluation, he listed my condition as severe. I cried. I'm exhausted.
So we decided to take a different route. Instead of taking man-made synthetic hormone pills I will be switching to natural desiccated thyroid tomorrow morning. It is the grossest concept to me--crushed up pig and cow hormone--but at this point I will do anything to feel better. Anything.
Here's an awesome article about Armour and its history.
So I'm not going to give up hope. I will get better. I will get through the next few months of tests and body scans and low iodine diets and pig thyroid. Frankly I don't have much of a choice. But I'd rather look on the bright side of this than wallow in the reality that today I was a gray-faced, 102-pound mess, crying my eyes out, begging for someone to make me better.
And how could I be sad with my husband here at home to make me smile? At dinner he said, "Do you realize how excited I'll be if my Love starts smelling like bacon!?!"