Let’s Make A Deal
I really wish you had been more upfront with me. For years I have endured your problems which you denied were your doing. To be fair, YOU didn’t deny it, but your little doctor friends did, always saying you were “normal” or “fine” and you never said anything. So my poor brain took the fall, and was unfairly drugged to cover for you. You are so small, yet can bring down an adult human.
I really wish you had spoken up, maybe by becoming a goiter or something, but you just silently went after yourself, in that self-destructive feminine way. And meanwhile I’m treating a litany of problems caused by your slack exhaustion, sadness, immune weakness, poor digestion with drugs that cause more problems. I don’t even know if the acid reflux is an effect or a side-effect. Anyway, now that I’m on to you, we really don’t have to go over the details. We both know who did what, and you are on a short leash, Missy.
You are out of control and clearly I can’t rely on you to police yourself. In fact, you have only gotten worse over time. Maybe if I’d dealt with you earlier things would be different. I have read that treatment for those with anti-bodies (which is us), even without symptoms of hypo-thyroidism, can reduce the antibodies and the disease progression. But it’s too late for us. If I’d reined you in when you were 19, we’d probably be okay, but I let you run rampant for decades, and now I fear you are beyond trainable. You are set in your ways, and I feel it is my fault. I let us both down.
Nevertheless, regardless of fault we have reached the crisis stage, and at best you will be on probation for the rest of your life or mine, whichever comes first. I honestly didn’t know any better, though I realize that’s no excuse. Your doctor friends in those days were idiots as well. The one who discovered you said that although you had Hashimoto’s you were just fine and the fact that I could not stay awake during any of my classes in college was no big deal and I should take No-Doz. Really. That’s what they prescribed. Well, I don’t have to tell you how that worked out.
Of course given the household you grew up in, I’m not surprised you were so troubled by 19. Dr. Drew would have you pegged in a minute. Now that I think back, it’s perhaps unfair to blame you for any of it. You were just doing what you could and eventually your survival strategies turned into problems. You say I shouldn’t blame you at all, that you have a “disease” but is it really? Is self-destruction a disease? Or just a really bad idea. In any case, I really hope you start to recognize yourself as yourself and stop killing yourself, but in the meantime I am going to supplement you so that you don’t take the rest of me down with you.
I do love you, and I really want what’s best for you and for us to get along. I just don’t want to cooperate in our demise anymore. I’ll check back with you by blood test in a month or so and see if you’ve taken any of this to heart. Meanwhile, don’t worry, I’ll never kick you out of the house. You’re here to stay.
(Bio) Betsy Salkind is an actress, comedian, writer and former drummer for the PHENOBARBIDOLLS. She was a founding member of the TERRORIST BRIDESMAIDS (4 comediennes determined to get a second use out of those dresses), and alumna of the improv troupe GUILTY CHILDREN and the sketch comedy group THE OTHER WHITE MEAT. She was also a staffwriter for “SATURDAY NIGHT SPECIAL” and “ROSEANNE” (the sitcom), and a jokewriter for Anthony Robbins (click to read the rest of Betsy’s bio). Check out Betsy’s latest post titled Betsy’s Medical Practice, very clever, smart and funny just like Bets. To find out more about Betsy, check out BetsySalkind.com.
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