Magic Pill?
To make a long story a little less long, I've found out that a lot of niggling, annoying stuff that's been not-quite-right with me for a while may, in fact, be due to something else entirely.
I have irregular thyroid hormone levels, which indicate hypothyroidism. This is quite common and is probably no big deal in the long run if I get it treated.
On the one hand, it's nice to think there might be one underlying, treatable cause for my depression, constant tiredness, extremeties that are frigid even when exposed to cats, senility-grade forgetfulness, and Peckinpah-like periods, not to mention my inability to lose weight despite habits so healthy even my trainer winces in sympathy for how little fun I am having.
On the other hand, having something wrong with you, no matter how small, sucks raw rooster eggs. All too often, what you see is just the tip of the iceberg. As Sargon so deftly put it, "Watch out, Carter! That's not a worm, that's a TENTACLE!"
I talked to the doctor today and agreed to start medication, then see him in three weeks. At that point I will trade blood for information, and hopefully we will both end up knowing more than we do now.
On one hand, it's possible though not likely that this is part of something bigger and more serious, something that could cause damage down the road.
If untreated, it could lead to osteoporosis, heart problems, and huge throat nodules, which are not my idea of fun party games. Now, it can also negatively affect fertility, which is so tragic I am laughing myself in circles, but I'm not willing to risk glandular bloat, brittle bones, and death just to get the free prize at the bottom of the box. Sterility, even if it comes with a free fetus-shaped decoder ring, is not worth what happens when the thyroid runs amok.
I should know.
My grandfather ended up with a goiter the size of a small octopus on his neck because of an undiagnosed thyroid irregularity. I saw a picture of it, after they pulled it out. Hellboy would have been impressed.
We appear to have caught this in its pre-Old-Ones stage, though. I, like hundreds of thousands of other people, probably just have a gland that shortchanges me a little, and all will be well with some artificial hormones.
You see, that's the bright side of all this. It's very possible that my crushing, black funk of the past year and a half is due to my faulty thyroid joining forces with my inherent depression in a kind of super-villain teamup. Not to mention the villains' minions: lethargy, slow-motion, and perpetual coldness.
There also exists the possibility that it is because of my faulty thyroid trying to make me fatter that I have been unable to lose any weight, and only my frantic hamster-wheel running is what is keeping me from gaining more.
And the final lovely possibility is that my thyroid is what is enraging Men-Men's enforcers and causing them to do strange and painful things to my girly bits.
After spilling enough blood on the floor and toilet seat yesterday morning to feed a ghoul, I laughingly quipped "It comes in pints?" and decided that I would swallow raw wolf spiders dipped in eyeball jelly if I thought it would end the Biblical deluge that occurs every time I take down my panties.
The treatment for all these symptoms is one little pill which, in the proper dosage, has absolutely no side effects, since it is simply a substance your body makes naturally.
I start medication tomorrow.
By the rosy, gold-pierced nipples of Inanna herself, if it works it may alleviate all of those. With no side effects.
I don't expect these symptoms to go away, but if any of them would just relent I would count myself luckier than the first creeping amphibian to see the stars.
After long hours of thinking about it, I am too hopeful to even hope.
That is either light at the end of the tunnel, or a big honkin' train.
Hell and damn. Let there be some fucking light!
link
I have irregular thyroid hormone levels, which indicate hypothyroidism. This is quite common and is probably no big deal in the long run if I get it treated.
On the one hand, it's nice to think there might be one underlying, treatable cause for my depression, constant tiredness, extremeties that are frigid even when exposed to cats, senility-grade forgetfulness, and Peckinpah-like periods, not to mention my inability to lose weight despite habits so healthy even my trainer winces in sympathy for how little fun I am having.
On the other hand, having something wrong with you, no matter how small, sucks raw rooster eggs. All too often, what you see is just the tip of the iceberg. As Sargon so deftly put it, "Watch out, Carter! That's not a worm, that's a TENTACLE!"
I talked to the doctor today and agreed to start medication, then see him in three weeks. At that point I will trade blood for information, and hopefully we will both end up knowing more than we do now.
On one hand, it's possible though not likely that this is part of something bigger and more serious, something that could cause damage down the road.
If untreated, it could lead to osteoporosis, heart problems, and huge throat nodules, which are not my idea of fun party games. Now, it can also negatively affect fertility, which is so tragic I am laughing myself in circles, but I'm not willing to risk glandular bloat, brittle bones, and death just to get the free prize at the bottom of the box. Sterility, even if it comes with a free fetus-shaped decoder ring, is not worth what happens when the thyroid runs amok.
I should know.
My grandfather ended up with a goiter the size of a small octopus on his neck because of an undiagnosed thyroid irregularity. I saw a picture of it, after they pulled it out. Hellboy would have been impressed.
We appear to have caught this in its pre-Old-Ones stage, though. I, like hundreds of thousands of other people, probably just have a gland that shortchanges me a little, and all will be well with some artificial hormones.
You see, that's the bright side of all this. It's very possible that my crushing, black funk of the past year and a half is due to my faulty thyroid joining forces with my inherent depression in a kind of super-villain teamup. Not to mention the villains' minions: lethargy, slow-motion, and perpetual coldness.
There also exists the possibility that it is because of my faulty thyroid trying to make me fatter that I have been unable to lose any weight, and only my frantic hamster-wheel running is what is keeping me from gaining more.
And the final lovely possibility is that my thyroid is what is enraging Men-Men's enforcers and causing them to do strange and painful things to my girly bits.
After spilling enough blood on the floor and toilet seat yesterday morning to feed a ghoul, I laughingly quipped "It comes in pints?" and decided that I would swallow raw wolf spiders dipped in eyeball jelly if I thought it would end the Biblical deluge that occurs every time I take down my panties.
The treatment for all these symptoms is one little pill which, in the proper dosage, has absolutely no side effects, since it is simply a substance your body makes naturally.
I start medication tomorrow.
By the rosy, gold-pierced nipples of Inanna herself, if it works it may alleviate all of those. With no side effects.
I don't expect these symptoms to go away, but if any of them would just relent I would count myself luckier than the first creeping amphibian to see the stars.
After long hours of thinking about it, I am too hopeful to even hope.
That is either light at the end of the tunnel, or a big honkin' train.
Hell and damn. Let there be some fucking light!
link