Short but heartfelt letters.
Dear Hashimoto’s,
Thanks for making every day harder. You’re a dick.
Dear PMS,
I do not like you. You do not actually make me more powerful, you just make me want to break people in half all day long. You do not help me deal with my emotions more effectively, you just make me cry at things that should not be cried at (the fight scene in Ice Age? Really? No. Really?) You do not make my son’s toddler habits easier to deal with, you make me want to run screaming from his presence. You are like a disorder all unto yourself. I am tired of you, officially.
Dear Braden,
Yes, it’s true. Your “farts are stinky like poopoo,” indeed. The amount of joy you bring into my life with simply silly things like that cannot be measured. Oh, but please don’t kick me in the eye again. That was the opposite of joy.
Dear Birthday,
I see you lurking there. I know, I know. I’m almost officially a whole year older. It’s really not even exciting anymore. It just validates the white hairs and the callouses. If you were really as awesome as you claim to be, you’d give me my old bewbies back. Now THAT’S a happy birthday.
Dear John,
I know you miss being at home. To make sure you feel welcome upon your return weeks from now, I am saving you all sorts of chores to complete! Nothing says loving like that, right?
Dear Debt Collectors,
Thank you for the recent letter demanding the thousands due in medical bills, immediately. The way the entire sheet of paper was pink truly made me feel the threat inherent in your message.
Dear Property Management,
I’m guessing the magic number for phone calls before you come and fix the light in the kitchen is something higher than 3. Even if you have promised “someone will be out tomorrow,” they won’t. You don’t really mean it. It was a joke – you were just kidding! I get it now. I hope you get explosive, burning diarrhea on your birthday.
Dear Jillian Michaels:
When I do the “butt kicks,” instead of holding my hands in fists in front of me, I hold out both my middle fingers. It totally helps me make it through. I’m not flipping you off, though. You are the toughest bitch I’ve ever not known but loved. In a completely platonic, non-I think of you naked when I’m in the shower kind of way. (Really.)
Dear Mexican (our dog),
Please just stop being gross. Seriously.
PS: I know. Watch your back.
Dear Body,
I know that you are tired. I know that you hurt. I know that it’s not your fault. I know that you feel bad because I always hate you. I am sorry. I’m still pushing and I’m trying really hard to get you healthy again. Please hang in there and work with me on this, damnit.
Dear Hair,
Did you hear what I said to Body? You are leaving me, and it’s making me frantic. I know you are just really tired of the antibodies in my bloodstream and the Hashimoto’s that is the result. I feel embarrassed that you are so important to me, in a way, but it’s true. You are important to me and I have cried several times already now, noticing how you are taking leave of me steadily. I do not like to see my scalp. Please reconsider. Please stay.
Dear Health Care Industry,
Please just fix it. Please stop telling me there is nothing you can do to help me. I am broken and you are supposed to be able to fix me.
You are supposed to.
So when I come in this next time, please do not turn me away again, telling me to keep waiting. I am done waiting. Ok?
Dear Reality Television,
You are still really, really stupid. Stop tricking people who I know are otherwise really smart.
Dear Halloween,
I hate the temptation of your endless bags of delicious candy. I love your ghouls and goblins, witches, werewolves, vampires, and ghosts. I delight in feeling your spirit as I watch horrible movies about undead monsters. As you approach, I tilt my head back in the dark and utter a high pitched cackle. When you are gone, please make any leftover candy disappear. My ass does not want to be dressed up as an elephant for the rest of the year.
Dear People Who Drive,
YOUR BRAIN. USE IT.
Dear You Guys,
Thanks for still coming here.
Hi. Here I am, being depressing again.
Almost seven weeks
since it started; we’re still stuck.
Would now be twelve weeks.
We are still not sure
when we’ll want to try again.
Sooner or later?
Some days, I think, “NO.”
Other days, I think, “maybe?”
It is confusing.
Afraid to chance it.
What if it happens again?
So soon, I might break.
Then again, it seems
no matter the length between,
the pain won’t differ.
Also afraid to
wait too long… time rushes by,
thyroid gets worse. *sigh*
Mostly we still want
to wake up from the nightmare,
our baby still here.
So probably not
ready to try again yet.
But still, there’s longing.
Braden’s latest word
is “baaay-beeeee,” complete with sign.
God, please help me cope.
First, I totally bore you with the medical stuff… then, Pee Pee!
Several kind readers have been asking me about how my appointment with the Endocrinologist went on Jan.28.
(For links on the back story, visit here, here, here and here. I have Hashimoto’s Thyroiditis, and have been experiencing Clinical Depression for some time.)
This post will probably be very long, and probably not all that funny. I know some of you come here for your funny. If you stick with me while I’m playing Debbie Downer today, I’ll give you some funny at the end. Promise. Okay?
Okay.
The actual Endo visit was like this:
Got there, signed in, sat down. Read book. Suddenly wanted to cry. Had no idea WHY. Unable to keep reading. Closed eyes and put head against wall. Receptionist asked if I was okay. I nodded yes.
Then I started crying.
I couldn’t stop it from happening. I didn’t know why I was even doing it. It.was.so.embarrassing.
They took me back to the exam room early because they felt sorry for me. Nice, really. But damn, did I feel stupid.
Nurse: “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”
Me: “No. Uh… I don’t know?”
Ugh.
The doctor was very kind. She was compassionate, reassuring, attentive, and never rushed me. She explained that I need another ultrasound of the thyroid since it has been 3 years since the last, and I may have developed cancerous nodules during that time. We also agreed on a 3 month cycle for my blood test check ups. Ongoing monitoring is necessary because the status of the disease can change at any time, and can ostensibly be life-threatening.
She indicated that the symptoms of hypothyroidism that I’m experiencing are also the symptoms of clinical depression (you don’t say?) and that if my hormone levels are normal (they were in December) that it is likely that is my problem, as per those symptoms. She said I would need to see a Primary Care Physician to address that. (Like I can afford it, but oh well.)
Before I left the office, I gave more blood. She wanted to make sure there had been no change since the blood tests from December. The results arrived a couple of days ago. My thyroid antibodies are insanely high (you can read about that in one of the above linked posts) but the hormone is “normal.” So no treatment for me from the Endo.
And if I want to get treatment for the Depression, I’m being handed off to yet another doctor, along with another visit fee, plus any other fees for tests and treatment. The bills are already crushing us, and so far, since being diagnosed with the Hashimoto’s back in early 2005, I have received NO treatment that would improve my symptoms. NOT ONCE.
Rewind: When I got home from the appointment on Monday, I decided to continue on some research I’ve been doing lately concerning the link between depression and birth control pills. It can get confusing wading through all that’s out there, but the thrust of it is this: there is a link between depression and birth control pills. Many women report feeling symptoms of depression while on The Pill.
Recently, Veronica told me that when she was on triphasic birth control she “got horribly depressed,” and has “felt miles better since [she] stopped the pill.” Similarly, Jill told me, “it [birth control] drained my energy and stole my libido.”
The progestin contained in the pills is thought to aggravate depression in women who already have it, or trigger it in those who are sensitive/prone to it. In combination pills (estrogen/progestin) the estrogen is said to balance out the negative effect of the progestin. However, again, women who are sensitive to it may still be affected by the progestin ingested.
My own experience, now that I can look back at my past history, has been that while taking a combined pill called Triphasil, I suffer low levels of depression (somewhat manageable), but on Ortho-Tri-Cyclen (what I was on years ago, and then again this year) I suffer incredible depression, including, but certainly not limited to: physical pain in back and neck, extreme fatigue, mood swings, numb/flat affect, irritability, sadness, and loss of libido.
It should be no surprise to learn that, though both pills are triphasic, combination pills (varying levels throughout the month of both estrogen and progestin), The Ortho-Tri-Cyclen will deliver two and a half times the amount of progestin in 3 weeks use as will the Triphasil. [source]
That’s Two And A Half Times the ingredient which can aggravate/trigger depression in many women.
Not a single doctor I have ever visited suggested this as my problem. Not once, in the 13 years I have taken birth control pill. Not once in the very many times I have complained about depression, fatigue, and pain to many different doctors who all knew I was on The Pill.
(Incidentally, both the types of BC I have taken are on the low side for progestin doses, when compared to the many other types of BC, but because I am obviously sensitive to it, that was enough to cause an imbalance for me.)
There has also been recent research detailing the loss of libido for women who take the pill, including a warning of long-term damage. In one study, women who had been taking The Pill for some time had 4 times the amount of SHBG (sex-hormone-binding globulin) in their bodies as did women who had never taken the pill. Hello, depleted libido! Even after 120 days off the pill, these women still had twice as much SHBG in their bodies ad did those who had never taken The Pill. While this is somewhat depressing itself, as it shows that there can be long-term damage to the libido… it also means that some amount of healing can occur over time! YAY!
Last Monday, feeling unhelped by a series of doctors, and without the money to keep visiting more, I did my research on birth control. I talked to John about what I had found so far, and we agreed that it was enough information to prompt me to stop taking birth control to see what happens. After all, things have been very, very much “not good” around here for the past several months.
I try to be frank and honest with you all always, but I talk about the tip of the iceberg here – I don’t like to drag you down with the specifics of the pain I (and my family) endure because I am mentally ill. But do a little reading about Clinical Depression on your own, and you will see that it can be a very frustrating, very ugly thing.
So. I stopped taking The Pill Monday, January 28th. It will probably take some time for me to know for sure whether this is really going to help, or whether I will still need medication. But I can give you a positive report so far. It has been a week, and already John has said that I have been less moody and more kind to him.
And me? I can sense a great change in my “thought life.” I am already finding that I get angry about things less often, and my mood feels generally happier. The debilitating pain in my shoulder/upper back/neck that I have been struggling with for over a month is GONE. I am not feeling as tired as I have recently felt and am more motivated to do things around the house. I think I’ve prepared dinner more times this past week than I did all last month. So? Already feeling better.
In just one week.
I’m not calling for every woman out there to stop taking the pill. It is probably the right thing for some women. But it is definitely not the right thing for every woman. If you take it, and you feel depressed? Ask your doctor for answers. Ask yourself – is it worth this? Could this be what’s hurting me, and those I love? I wish I had known this stuff sooner. I wish my doctors had told me.
I want to take this opportunity to apologize to every single person who’s had to be on the receiving end of my problem, in any way, at any time. It gets hard inside my heart sometimes… it gets ugly inside my head. That flows out of my mouth and my fingers sometimes. Sometimes a lot. I am so sorry.
I want to thank my husband for trying not to kill me, and succeeding.
And I want to thank every single person who says nice things to me on a regular basis. Thank you to every friend and acquaintance who has tried to brighten my day. Thank you to those of you who stick by me and are helping me get through the dark days and make it back into the light. Or, well, into the light at all. You all mean more to me than you can possibly know.
Thank you so much.
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***************
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So, you made it to the end? Did you read, or just fast-forward for the funny? Ah well, whichever it was, you made it to the end. You deserve your funny, just because you came here to see me. And also because it’s Tickle Me Tuesday, according to Marie.
So? Here’s my funny for the day:
My child is prone to butt rashes, and so, 85% of the time, he is at least half-naked. Regular readers can confirm that there are several Braden Hiney Sightings here on a regular basis.
Result of giving in to the desire to hold and love on your half-naked child:
Let’s make s’mores.
The time left until my big, exciting appointment with the Endocrinologist is s. l. o. w. l. y ticking away. Every day seems like a year. Every minute seems like an hour in which the world is sitting on my shoulder saying, “You don’t hold us up very well, woman. Your shoulders are weak. You need to workout more.”
Tabitha D’umo looks at me from the cover of her stupid Dance DVD. Mocking me. I entertain thoughts of burning her face up in a bonfire as I dance around it, naked, in my front yard. But it is below freezing, and I can’t find my matches. Darn.
Last week was a long, long week. Lots of good. Lots of bad. We fight. I snip. I apologize. We butt heads. We talk. I cry. We laugh. We cuddle in bed and then fall asleep.
The next day, it happens all again. I just want to sleep all day. Can I please just sleep all day? I don’t want to be a human today. I want to sit in the corner and stare at the wall. Also. I want to stop having frizzy hair that breaks if you look at it wrong, and brittle nails that do the same. My back locks up and my neck goes stiff on me. I find patches of dry skin on my feet that look like this:
On the days when I can actually get out of the house (like Monday, thank you, Alli!) things feel better. The motto is, “Movement in Sunshine.” It seems to help with the Depression Symptoms. But the lump in my throat. That choking feeling. And that world. On my shoulders. Oy.
Please help me, Mrs. Endocrinologist. And tell me this paper you sent that says, “payment in full is due at time of service” was just a mean joke you like to play. Please?
Oh, look. I just found my matches. Wanna meet me in the front yard, my friends? Bring your marshmallows.
.
.
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Haik’use me, your thyroid’s F’D up, lady.
The levels of my
Thyroid Antibodies are
Insanely high, yo.
A quick update on my thyroid labwork. I finally got a nurse on the phone a couple of days ago. She told me a few things that aren’t so awesome.
First of all, a bit of history: My levels have, in the past, been skewed such that the THS (which supresses your thyroid) was low… meaning my thyroid was actually running faster than it’s supposed to. Before anyone gets all jealous (that b*tch had built-in weight loss hormones!) it was not enough to make me lose weight. (You’ll remember, I was told, ”It’s not bad enough for us to medicate yet.”) It was just enough to make me feel like supremo crap – nervous, tired, moody, and anxiety prone. That has been the case whenever I had it checked from 2005 up until now.
Also, thyroid antibodies were detected at such levels that I was diagnosed with Hashimoto’s Thyroiditis. That basically means that my body created an army to take out my thyroid, as if it were a foreign body, and is regularly attacking and mutilating the poor thing. As such, I have Goiter – a swollen, hurting, sad, whiny, crying thyroid that is just screaming out – “Pweease, pweease, stop hoorting me!” I regularly feel like someone is choking me, and it’s hard to swallow sometimes. *whine, moan, cry*
So, onto the current events.
I finally got my nurse on the phone, and she says, “Your thyroid hormones are normal.”
At first, you would think this is good news, right? Ahh, grasshopper, but no. Because what that means is that the “hyper” phase has now switched and the hormone level is heading in the other direction. And good folks, what that means is that before long I’ll enter the “true” phase of hypothyroidism.
But the fun continues.
“Your thyroid antibodies are incredibly high. So much so that Dr. Crowe wants you to go see an Endocrinologist.”
How high are we talking, people?
There are 2 measured antibodies.
TPO - Normal Range: 0 – 34, My Result: 216
Anti-Thyroglobulin – Normal Range: 0 – 40, My Result: 849
And apparently, when your thyroid is taking a beating from an antibody level that high, it’s enough to cause the symptoms I’m experiencing (depression, fatigue, loss of libido, dry skin, brittle nails, weight gain….), even if the other hormones measure “normal.”
Well, butter my biscuit.
So, no relief for me yet. I’m on the waiting list for the best Endocrinologist in town. At some point, I’ll get an appointment, and more tests will need to be done (and paid for – with what? my bellybutton lint?)… and maybe one day, I’ll get some medicine to help me feel better and be happy.
Maybe one day.
And hopefully we won’t have to sell Braden on the black market to afford all of this.
(In China, of course, where boys fetch more… what? So I’ve done my research….)
The Doldrums
So, the past few days have been… okay. Ups and downs. A high desire to just sleep. I’ve only threatened John’s life a handful of times, and I swear, I have been limiting my thoughts of poking him in the eye with my thumb to a minimum of 5 a day. In all fairness, every time I tell him, “I’m going to slap you,” he responds with, “I’ll punch you in the face.” So, you know, I’m obviously not the only one with anger issues around here. Also, there is still no desire for business. Please pray for John’s continued sanity.
As part of my desire to be a better mother, I’ve really been working on my “closet problem” with Braden. Although I haven’t been able to stop myself from putting him in there frequently, at least I’ve limited the amount of time he had to stay there. Two hours at a time is really kind of me, right?
Additionally, The Mexican has still been spared the fate of the microwave, although I do have to admit that I’ve recently been considering putting him in the crock pot instead, anyway. Less mess, and who knows? He might be nice and tender… I’ve been so lazy about preparing meals lately….
Oh, yeah. The jerks still haven’t called me with the results from my thyroid labwork. But guess what came in the mail today? THE BILL. The MF’ing bill. Including a test for Thyroid Antibodies, WHICH I DIDN’T NEED. See, I have ALREADY been diagnosed with Hashimoto’s Thyroiditis. That means that antibodies have already been detected. And there’s this thing about your body where ANTIBODIES DON’T JUST DISAPPEAR. I am livid about having this bill in my hand already when I have been given no results, and I am livid about the cost.
THREE HUNDRED EIGHTY SEVEN DOLLARS.
Did you choke? Cause when I saw that, my vagina literally just fell off my body. Hey, I haven’t been using it lately anyway, so, no big deal, right? But come ON! And, of course, the test I didn’t need was the most expensive one.
So, you know… I’m just a tiny, litte bit PISSED OFF.
The weather is not helping my mood. Today = Grey. The clouds are grey, the sky is grey, THE WORLD IS FREAKING GREY. But no snow! No, not here! If it has to be so dreary and bleary and cold and crappy, it would be nice if we could have a gee golly winter wonderland out there. At least then it would look SHINY as well as WHITE, instead of GREY.
Seriously. I hate this. Outside, it looks like if you tasted it, you’d have that bitter aspirin taste in your mouth.
Today, outside tastes yucky. And that makes me sad.
lol haiku
i’m in ur playdate
needn mah medz so cud u
make me laff sum more?
I had a fabulous time yesterday hangin’ out with Alli at our playdate. Her house, her family, and her face are all beautiful! She made me laugh a lot, and since I’m still sans meds, that does a depressed momma so much good. I’m literally counting down the days until I can go back and see her again.
PS: I highly recommend Mommy Blogger Playdates. Veronica and I were thinking that we need to see if there’s some sort of Mommy Blogger Playdate Service. Kind of like a Dating Service – but instead of finding you a date, it sets you up with other Mommy Bloggers in your area for playdates. How cool would that be? Then you could be having this much fun>
*******************
Waiting to hear back
Why don’t you jerks just call me?
I’m still feeling nuts.
Yes. I have STILL not heard back on the thyroid tests from last Friday! HELLO!? As we all know, an unmedicated thyroid problem can literally kill you, so I hope I don’t die before they give me my results. Maybe I should be more assertive, like this. If they don’t call soon, I’ll be able to add anxiety to my list of malfunctions.
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