It Began With A Goiter, And Ended… Never
A long time ago in a land far, far way, a doctor felt my neck and said, “How long have you had this goiter?” Goiter?! Isn’t that something old people have?, What is it and what is it doing in my throat?, He mumbled something about my thyroid and cancer, which sent me into a 28-day freak-out until one, when-am-I-gonna-glow-in-the-dark?, thyroid scan later, I was told it was fine, nothing to worry about, go live your life. NO ONE, I repeat, NO ONE ever said Word One about possible hypothyroidism or Hashimoto’s, not that I would have known what either of those was, but I would have gone to the library and looked them up. Mind you, this was long before the days when you could simply turn on your computer, do a search, and instantly get 4,382,963 references.
So, dear thyroid, I suppose you tried to warn me, but I didn’t get that message. No one ever told me that, ignored and left to your own devices, you would just get crankier and crabbier until you had a full-fledged drama queen meltdown. I had zero clue that 20 years later you would turn my life upside down. But, seriously, did you ever hear the saying “cutting off your nose to spite your face?” Attention-getting though it may be, wreaking havoc and making my immune system so mad it finally turned on you probably wasn’t the smartest thing you ever did, now was it?, Or is this whole routine you have of sulking, pouting and refusing to do anything, followed by Tasmanian devil tantrums which make me spin in circles some kind of payback for ignoring you?, Or maybe you thought all those times I went to all those doctors and was told I was stressed and depressed were pretty funny. Oh, yeah, being told by the therapist I was sent to that I might be bipolar was freakin’ hilarious!, To say nothing of that last conniption fit you pitched which involved a trip to the Emergency Room, an EKG, an echocardiogram, wearing a Holter monitor for two days, an ultrasound, getting every blood test known to man until they finally decided you were the problem, and then being jabbed with needles every three weeks for six months until you finally calmed down. For your own good, I feel I should tell you that kind of comedy won’t get you a special on Comedy Central. Do NOT give up your day job. Oh, wait. Your pretty much already did!, Oh, what, you can’t take a little snarkiness?
You know, dear thyroid, what you really need is a time-out. Of course, our wonderful new endo tells me you are way beyond that point because, even if we take you out, you have my immune system so worked up it will probably just attack something else. Great. My options are either living with the evil I know or braving the evil I don’t know. So, I guess we are stuck with each other, like it or not. I don’t know about you, but I could use a vacation. Oh, wait, you spend half your time on vacation. Woops, I did it again. Okay, okay, I’ll try to play nice. Good grief, you are so sensitive.
Dear thyroid, you craved my attention, and you know full well you have had my undivided attention for years already. But even the worst diva knows she can’t demand attention 24/7, 365 days a year. Look at it this way, the new medications and dosage schedule our endo has us on have me thinking about you at least three times a day. Plus, I am doing the whole anti-inflammatory diet thing, which is supposed to make you/us feel better. And that diet is no piece of cake. Get it?, See, I can be funny, when you let me. I’m thinking together we could make a great team. So, how’s about we call a truce?, I’ll stifle the snarkiness, if you’ll ditch the drama.
Unable to comprehend your actions but still really trying to love ya,
(Bio) Brenda Ford lives in a small rural community in the High Desert where she gardens, writes, takes naps every time she gets still, and is still trying to figure out how the toaster got in the refrigerator. She used to live in the Big City and go to a real job where she was a highly productive, high energy, go-to person who could multi-task with the best of ’em. Big sigh.