Dear Thyroid^TM

Written by T – Hypothyroid Patient

Dear Thyroid,

Because of you I spend my day looking and researching for ways to make myself feel better. I first gave notice to you when I was in my 30’s, and now 20 years later you still haunt me. I recognized that you were not being a friend to me when I could hardly get out of bed in the mornings and all I really wanted to do was sleep the day away. But I had to hold down a full time job as a home health nurse and the bills had to be paid. I discovered you after researching what could be making me feel so bad.

Not being one that just ran to the doctor for everything, I tried to fix me, but nothing was working so I finally dragged myself to see a doctor. I told him that I was sure that I had a problem with you, hypothyroidism. My hair was falling out. I was too tired to get out of bed. I had no appetite, but was very much overweight. Obese to say the least.

The doctor took some blood and tested your function. My TSH was a whopping 76! No wonder I felt awful! He began me on Synthroid in which I did begin to feel so much better.

But because of you not behaving as you should in my body, I will battle being overweight for the rest of my life. I will battle being in the proper ranges of T3, T4 and TSH for the rest of my life. I will constantly be fighting symptoms and trying to figure out “why”. I will always be looking for solutions to fix the many everlasting problems you cause.

You are always trying to get the best of me and think there are some doctors that like it that way. That is why they prescribe synthroid to those who do not respond to it, as is my case. After being on Synthroid for several years and changing doctors for various reasons, I requested to be able to try Armour Thyroid. And it made a world of difference. I must have started not being able to convert T4 to T3 (or is it the other way around?). Whichever it is, you, my dear thyroid are a constant reminder that you cause turmoil.

It was the middle of last year that I had to change doctors once again, because mine was leaving town. And I chose one that did not believe in Armour Thyroid. I’m sure it is a “money” thing. He didn’t give a hoot that I would not feel better on it, and oh, by the way, my dosage was needing to be changed. For some odd reason my TSH had been within range for a long time, but it began to be very low—almost nonexistent at something like .003. I was having awful symptoms. I was losing hair like crazy, wanting to sleep all the time, heart palpitations, tired, no appetite. The only one that wasn’t an obvious hypothyroid symptom was my heart feeling funny. I only have that when you’re overactive. But no luck losing weight, either.

So I finally started going to another doctor who had no problem putting me on Armour. I was so depressed, my hair kept falling out, and I suffered from muscle cramps with the smallest movement. I had no appetite but I was putting on more pounds. I knew that my levels were still not right. But since being changed to Armour, I am feeling much better and less depressed. And by the way, my new doctor did confirm that some doctors along with the pharmaceutical companies pushed synthroid because of not having control of the”natural” thyroid. In other words they don’t make money on it, the bottom line.

I know I will always be at battle with you. You are the thorn in my side. But I will not go down without a fight. I am on constant watch for new procedures that will defeat your fight to put me out of balance. Oh my dear thyroid, look out! I’m on a mission to put you back in your place and have you to be behaving once again.

Signed,

T

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How long have you dealt with your thyroid problems, diagnosed and undiagnosed? Did you know there was something wrong long before you went to the doctor, but couldn’t quite put your finger on what it was? What proactive measures do you take to fight back? Let “T” and all of us in the thyamily know in comments!

Dear Thyroid;

It’s been a while since you’ve kept me awake at night, and we both know that when you put the toothpicks to my eyelids and prop them open, I do tend to think of you more, and then of course, I feel the need (or is it desire?) to communicate with you. I’m sitting here with my chin in my hands, slits of eyes..yet I feel the stinging woodiness of the pointy toothpicks, just wondering why you want to bother me now. It’s so much work to try and deal with you. The efforts I put in are exhaustive. Right now, I don’t have the strength to reach my pinkie over to press the exclamation point. All you’re gonna get is dot dot dot…

Remember the class in high school? The one that was supposed to teach kids about parenting? You know the one–theyhad to take care of an egg all weekend, or the allotted time prescribed by a teacher. I was thinking what would it be like if I had to physically see you and take care of you for a weekend. What would that be like? I’m thinking that the doctor would present you to me in a little fleece blanket, one that is sky blue with butterflies in pastel colors. I’d pull back one corner of the little blanket to take a peek at you, expecting a smooth cherubic pink (albeit maybe a little chubby) thyroid gland with cute little wings, wriggling and almost hearing a little coo…but what I see is you–a wrinkly, grayish dusky pink with a dull pallor. One of your wings is smaller than the other and the tip is bent and dried up, not unlike an overcooked chicken wing. There’s no wriggling and cooing in you, you’re too busy just trying to breathe, as your little body heaves up and down and I hear a tender sigh. I wonder out loud to myself, “How the hell am I gonna take care of this?! (oh..exclamation point..hey, I did it!) This thing is sickly.”  The doctor quickly points out to me that he knows this already, and notes that I am up to the challenge now. Why did he not discuss this with me ahead of time? I had the ultrasound; didn’t it show up? ”Oh really??” I ponder as one eyebrow cocks over my wide eyes. Okay, let’s get you outtahere so we can begin the weekend already. There’s a lot to do if I’m going to take care of you.

It all begins as I try to leave the office. People see the pretty little blanket and want to take a peek at you. “Oh, poor dear…you’ve got your hands full,” says one.  “It’s so..so..tiny,” says another. I hear their whispers as I go by. “That one’s never gonna make it, poor thing,” or, ”Did you see how ugly it is? Bleah.” I’m in such a hurry to leave–is it that I don’t want anyone to see my not-so-perfect thyroid?  Hey, I’m stuck with you, so let’s go and make the best of it. When we get out into the fresh air, I feel you stir a little under that blanket. Are you cold? hot? I uncover you a little and you appear to settle..maybe you were hot, but you gravitate towards the little patches of sunlight. You like that Vitamin D, don’t you? We’ll stay out in the sunshine for a little while. We get you home and into the house, and I put you, blanket and all into a little breadbasket–well, it looks like a bed, what the heck. I examine you again, and just your color and dried-up bits make me think that you’re dehydrated, so we share a bottle of water. That went down pretty easy…we’ll have some more later.

Knowing that you’d be arriving soon, and suspecting that you would not be well with all the symptoms I’ve had carrying you for this many years, I’ve been reading up on how to take care of you. I’m just not sure how you will let me know what you need but right now, I am so tired. Can we just take a little nap? We fall asleep on the couch, and I awake to your fussing about. You are a fussy little thing, aren’t you? I’m trying to figure out what it is you’re needing. Some food?Okay…I’d rather be eating cold pizza, but let’s see, I’ve gotten prepared ahead of time for you. How ’bout some fresh fruit and a little piece of cheese, maybe some greek yogurt with a drizzle of coconut oil and honey?  I eat it. You seem to like it. We’ll have to see how we both react later. My brain is a little fuzzy yet.

Let’s do something. I wrap you up and take you next door to visit my family. At first they’re eager to see you, but when they realize that you’re not perfect, they don’t want to be bothered with you. They’d rather talk about their cooking utensils. Fine. I have to go to work during the weekend, so I bring you along with me. They want to see you too, but just like family, they think that I should just put you on the shelf and forget about you and get on with things. Get the work done. Buck up. I can’t do that…not when you’re right there with me, staring me in the face, especially with that crooked wing.. You’re mine and sometimes you need to come first.

Funny, before all of this and until you came along, I smiled more, had increased energy, and did everything that everyone asked. A yes girl? Maybe… Now, the good happy smiling moments are fewer, and I really have to focus on them and celebrate them. I am a little quicker to stand up for myself and say NO once in awhile. That’s not always a bad thing. Are you teaching me to take care of myself, as I take care of you?

The weekend goes by pretty fast. You keep me up at night. I rub coconut oil on you. Fussy you. Brainfogged me. We take our vitamins and medicine. We get a little sunshine and nap when we’re tired. I’m learning it’s easier when I really take a look at you and try to figure out what you need and want. It’s coming easier to me. It’s almost time to give you back, but I’m thinking…I’m cancelling the appointment and I’m going to keep you, crooked dried up wing and all.

I love you.

Kathy Taylor