tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70069991245469975862024-02-01T18:57:45.346-08:00Dear ThyroidDear Thyroid™ is a unique brand of thyroid support, literary oriented. Thyroid patients are speaking up and out about their disease, writing love and hate letters to their thyroids.Dear Thyroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10521143586906111658noreply@blogger.comBlogger28125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7006999124546997586.post-2299170653747354482021-05-11T08:42:00.004-07:002021-05-11T08:42:50.583-07:00We are redesigning DearThyroid.orgWe are still accepting letters. Please submit your hate letters to dearthyroid@gmail.comDear Thyroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10521143586906111658noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7006999124546997586.post-43833359195052567412009-05-03T08:50:00.001-07:002009-06-15T06:15:45.663-07:00DEAR THYROID HAS MOVED TO WORDPRESS<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_ip_F7oVcPQWT9K4OURdNM1hQlKzdpHGfnfUI6VVjST6ii_zHdvWdJrgV8jIFErrUdCmcS_6jPUHePklFB4fcbsF16sOGFYNuO2XnHk5FjOpHvpM5SrOVyNullxnXcmw1NYEUZK52Tvw/s1600-h/dearthyroid+has+moved.bmp"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 111px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331626768370803154" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_ip_F7oVcPQWT9K4OURdNM1hQlKzdpHGfnfUI6VVjST6ii_zHdvWdJrgV8jIFErrUdCmcS_6jPUHePklFB4fcbsF16sOGFYNuO2XnHk5FjOpHvpM5SrOVyNullxnXcmw1NYEUZK52Tvw/s200/dearthyroid+has+moved.bmp" /></a><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:180%;color:#666666;"><strong>And we think you'll love our new digs! Check out the new </strong></span><a href="http://dearthyroid.wordpress.com/"><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:180%;color:#990000;"><strong>DearThyroid</strong></span></a><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:180%;color:#666666;"><strong>. Submit your letters, follow us, friend us and link to us.</strong></span>Dear Thyroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10521143586906111658noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7006999124546997586.post-34197545793180929782009-05-01T18:21:00.000-07:002009-05-01T18:26:47.690-07:00DISH ON DEAR THRYOID<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmICwYa-shyNzZedeqEAAZpoU677_Ys1ekeaVasnaeaOnGjYC8_ra2ory8cwuyq1sNBe1toxaSlEglTBQqJ7VS_IQhhoNuUb5CDXk33mPGESPG6gGmIiUgB_ejY_zI4AS2UJWcuzkW26lY/s1600-h/Dear+Thyroid.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 159px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331031786207979890" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmICwYa-shyNzZedeqEAAZpoU677_Ys1ekeaVasnaeaOnGjYC8_ra2ory8cwuyq1sNBe1toxaSlEglTBQqJ7VS_IQhhoNuUb5CDXk33mPGESPG6gGmIiUgB_ejY_zI4AS2UJWcuzkW26lY/s200/Dear+Thyroid.jpg" /></a><br /><div>@<a href="http://twitter.com/Anastasia_Smith">Anastasia_Smith</a> of <a href="http://thesisterproject.com/">The Sister Project</a>, follow them on Twitter @<a href="http://twitter.com/sisters">sisters</a>, wrote a gorgeous post about her thyroid, sisterhood and Dear Thyroid. Please read, <a href="http://thesisterproject.com/smith/from-the-threads-of-thyroid-tales/">From The Threads of Thyroid Tales</a>. </div><br /><div></div><div>Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! </div><br /><div></div><div>We can't wait for your letter, dearie.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7006999124546997586.post-82230689549388608062009-04-23T18:16:00.000-07:002009-04-23T18:19:16.224-07:00DEAR THYROID -- WAIT FOR IT --<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMlcmfdxWMu3Q3wOsYKfHH70XBb3f7FgrhnrT3DO75zm7I_vUSvs5IA-w6vLT_AzwXer9lJBbQ3feHM0U1PKdU3FMGeffO-Hc5znXhbQo1g8iA5WZvOgdV8Z2yeDuhW1Ivte_40ZWS6dFL/s1600-h/1950s+woman.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 138px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328061054146299218" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMlcmfdxWMu3Q3wOsYKfHH70XBb3f7FgrhnrT3DO75zm7I_vUSvs5IA-w6vLT_AzwXer9lJBbQ3feHM0U1PKdU3FMGeffO-Hc5znXhbQo1g8iA5WZvOgdV8Z2yeDuhW1Ivte_40ZWS6dFL/s320/1950s+woman.jpg" /></a><br /><div>Dear Thyroid,<br /><br />You really aren’t so clever, you know. You think attack is something new, something radical. But you’ve got to realize that I, myself, am the best at attack and destruction. My mind’s been cutting away at pieces of my own cells for years and years, ever since childhood and well before you started dropping your hints here and there: well before the red hair; well before the yellow skin and childish rebellion in my back and legs and kidneys; well before the blotches of itches and puffy cheeks, and the so-many tears since; well before the years and lines of my life had been erased (and even with photographs before me I still can’t remember the stories everyone else seems to know by heart, which usually makes me cry too); and sometimes the dark skin lines to remind me how this body has stretched and squeezed into a new form. (As if I needed another reminder).<br /><br />Doctors tell me you’re localized -- only you as that pretty butterfly shape at the base of my neck is affected. Well, I never liked butterflies anyway. They’re so delicate, like one pinch too hard and the wings disintegrate under the sticky hot fingers of children and beaks of birds. And I remember one summer when little black butterflies landed in twos or threes near our house. By the end of the day, we kids had caught so many and all but one of them had died just from the sheer pressure of fingers: index to thumb. Pretty things like butterflies never seem to last. I should have seen it coming. All those summers and paper-waif wings should have been the warning.<br /><br />And so, I keep hearing the same thing: you can’t be cured; you’ll just stick around with all your complications and pain and embarrassment and all of the destruction you’ve already done. Whatever inkblot shape you’ve crafted for yourself inside of my neck will be left that way forever for me to keep interpreting and extracting some sort of meaning over and over and over. The only thing is that, I’m in the habit of fighting ugly things (and maybe even some things that are good and beautiful and don’t deserve a waged war. Sometimes lovely things just get in the way and end up in the battle). It’s nothing personal; it’s just my nature.<br /><br />So look, there’s something I’ve gotta tell you; something you need to know: as close as we’ve grown over the years, as much as I know about you and as much as I think of you everyday, as much as you’ve taught me, as many new and good people as you’ve introduced me to, there’s something you should know. I think it’s only fair to warn you -- to be perfectly honest with you...<br />Thyroid, Hashimoto’s Thyroiditis, I’m going to kick your ass and you won’t know what hit you.<br /><br />Love Always,<br />Liz Schau </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7006999124546997586.post-14594253442875874262009-04-06T18:17:00.000-07:002009-04-06T18:22:40.608-07:00YAYAYAYAYA<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjymNBxMQmE8fOaNeNIhggyiF46W7YAmcbXx5y5NNcPduj7POtz0z6pRzqYByVL_AoiI9skQs_oJ36-4nXGWKpnb_nTgvqXzI3_YGMcMeUtBaVTcRsN59yz-7n2zPuN4y9j9-P2JWn-cKMh/s1600-h/happy+dame.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321753436345890834" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 278px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjymNBxMQmE8fOaNeNIhggyiF46W7YAmcbXx5y5NNcPduj7POtz0z6pRzqYByVL_AoiI9skQs_oJ36-4nXGWKpnb_nTgvqXzI3_YGMcMeUtBaVTcRsN59yz-7n2zPuN4y9j9-P2JWn-cKMh/s320/happy+dame.bmp" border="0" /></a><br /><div>Dear Thyroid,</div><br /><div></div><div>Tomorrow we have yet another blood test and a little added treat: an HPV shot! Joy.But that's unimportant. You don't feel joy. </div><br /><div></div><div>I can tell. I can tell that emotions aren't really your zone. You just like pretending that you have emotions, dipping your fingers into my emotions so you can see me squirm with discomfort, cry over the stupidest things, or laugh at all the jokes that aren't even funny.</div><br /><div></div><div>I just wanted to let you know that yesterday I was looking at pictures. They were of the family trips that we took earlier, back at the beginning of high school. There are pictures of me from all over Lithuania. I looked so happy, and, as I recall, that was an amazing trip. I just saw several pictures of me, wearing sweatshirts and looking completely comfortable. You might be thinking, "sweatshirts are supposed to be comfortable, why would it be any different?" I'll tell you why.</div><br /><div></div><div>Because since you've grown up, and out, expanding the circumference of my neck, sweatshirts have strangled me. I cut a slit down the front of the thing, so you'll have more room to breathe. I looked so happy in these pictures, with sweatshirts uncut, and space to spare.</div><br /><div></div><div>That doesn't mean I hate you. I still have to live with you. But would you mind loosening your grip on my life?</div><br /><div>Yours,</div><div>Monika </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7006999124546997586.post-40895159503961199752009-03-21T08:24:00.001-07:002009-03-21T08:25:52.679-07:00THYROCIOUS IS NO LONGER AWRY<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU9VH2Zh_NPsnVTjzLwsknn8iNhj1YPvvDEGIWjXio4SHG_uetyPws5jT3PfjE7Z7y15GGt_sLP0_DCQq1-xjJFAzRJe7YqWNWWmyvWeV7q_CftV5LyFq-OkeEMkSYIILUfDzTATTA3tqj/s1600-h/suzyhomemaker.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315662431448775426" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 157px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU9VH2Zh_NPsnVTjzLwsknn8iNhj1YPvvDEGIWjXio4SHG_uetyPws5jT3PfjE7Z7y15GGt_sLP0_DCQq1-xjJFAzRJe7YqWNWWmyvWeV7q_CftV5LyFq-OkeEMkSYIILUfDzTATTA3tqj/s200/suzyhomemaker.jpg" border="0" /></a>Reflecting on six-years of sickness, two near death experiences and the loss of my canine son on the precipice of what was intermittent sanity; and still trying to reconcile all of the time I lost, with a full heart because I finally feel like me again, I can write this.<br /><br />My thyroid has been balanced for two-months, something I haven’t experienced in six-years, six, long, painful, life sucking, years. In the past 60-days, I have felt so much like me and have seen old Katieisms resurface; personality traits that I thought were dead, when really, they were just buried. Alongside old-me, there is a new person emerging with contradictory thoughts in some respects, sure, and in others, striking similarities.<br /><br />The road ahead is no longer bleak because I see more and more of me emerge on a daily basis. The strength I thought I’d never regain, the hope I thought I’d buried with Louie, the spirit of who I was is beginning to outweigh the pain of the past six-years. And, while I’m still struggling with the loss of time, I am finding my way.<br /><br />Everything is different because I’m different. I have my mind back, the one thing I could always rely on, but sadly lost during my thybacle. My mind means everything to me, lucidity, clarity of thought, making intellectual decisions, free of thyroid induced paranoia, depression, rage, unrelenting sorrow and a slew of other mental conditions other thyroidians can relate to.<br /><br />And, of course, there’s my family. I’ve missed them terribly. Though I couldn’t have gotten through this without them, now that I’m sane, I miss them even more. I want to get to know them and spend time with them. I want to know how I affected them and what it was like for them. I’m able to place myself in their shoes and see what it might’ve felt like for them. I’m able to ask them questions about it and listen, even if I don’t like what I hear. Not because I want to punish myself, on the contrary. I want to know what this disease took from them, how it reshaped their lives, how they coped, and I want to be there for them—I can do that now. I wasn’t able to before. This feels like a privilege, not a burden.<br /><br />Having been reclusive for so long, I’m now reentering my life and figuring out how and where I fit in. Recently it occurred to me that how I reenter is entirely up to me, which is empowering. Sure, my self-esteem is still in the twaloo (toilet), but I’m learning a lot about how I think and feel, I’m also speaking up and disagreeing where I might not have in the past. Though, I’m not sure because I don’t remember everything about who I was. Some of my memories of the past six years are vivid, while others aren’t. I have an incredible mother and sister who remember everything.<br /><br />Though I’ve had a few medical blips with my <a href="http://katieschwartz.blogspot.com/2009/02/are-you-kidneying-me.html">kidneys</a> and thEYEbacle, I have an incredible Shrinktail who is really there for me and helps me get through the fear. I’m learning how to interact with doctors. When I’m thrown into what feels like medical chaos, I become so overwhelmed, I lose my footing. This is attributed to the years of medical negligence and mistreatment related to this disease. I digress. I am finding my way.<br /><br />There is an end and with that, a new beginning. Don’t give up, even when you can’t get out of bed and your thyroid has sucked your mind into an abyss that’s telling you otherwise.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7006999124546997586.post-3234806164615164462009-02-02T10:32:00.000-08:002009-02-02T10:36:01.564-08:00Thyroid Jokes<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXgdEtnQD-6EV2NVdjT42DGX1BS2o0baz7IKdWiOp6jnscMVMaJbr7ViyRjt3asxfmK0_7tnInkytuTEQxxNjo8fu_Auvu2h32EmJ7sapGYbwjyS_18MlpAsqG7jQFFiMElI58tktJkDQ/s1600-h/weird.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298270013638091506" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 134px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXgdEtnQD-6EV2NVdjT42DGX1BS2o0baz7IKdWiOp6jnscMVMaJbr7ViyRjt3asxfmK0_7tnInkytuTEQxxNjo8fu_Auvu2h32EmJ7sapGYbwjyS_18MlpAsqG7jQFFiMElI58tktJkDQ/s200/weird.jpg" border="0" /></a>So... last night while schlepping around the internetski, I was looking for thyroid jokes. I found bupkas. I think we should start writing some thyroid jokes and posting them on DearThryoid. We can turn them in tees, too. How kick ass would that be?<br /><br />Spill.<br /><br />Love,<br />MEDear Thyroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10521143586906111658noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7006999124546997586.post-26948400194935914102009-02-01T09:14:00.000-08:002009-02-01T09:32:19.882-08:00THYROID INSANITY<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwkE52XLMXILBv4pu-G_h24YBlO_ZNampep-SL3pbsRmPHE4YxlQjXeMWf-w2B6CWyG0OA2vc9aknHwRiW3royH8OVRGgHr-cX3i_luiAkdZxRugeQxpAt76QOSc6IKLW7M0-WpIU_vio/s1600-h/1930s.jpg"><span style="font-size:130%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297882338847367826" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 168px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwkE52XLMXILBv4pu-G_h24YBlO_ZNampep-SL3pbsRmPHE4YxlQjXeMWf-w2B6CWyG0OA2vc9aknHwRiW3royH8OVRGgHr-cX3i_luiAkdZxRugeQxpAt76QOSc6IKLW7M0-WpIU_vio/s200/1930s.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">How ironic, “Better in Time” spins on my iPod as I sit to write – something – anything that resonates with me.<br /><br />Birthdays have never been an issue until very recently. On the precipice of a new one, I’ve turned eerily inward. Nightmares are vivid, long and rampant. A scorched heart vibrates anger paired with sorrow. Eclipsed only by shame for not overcoming what should’ve been defeated in 08’. Unanswered questions in pillowy letters loop in bold, italics, </span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><strong><em>“You are the problem in your life.”<br /></em></strong><br />Dissipating anger for my doctors swapped by anger at “disease”, <em>my disease</em>, a disease that defines me instead of me defining it. Fixating on time and opportunities lost. They vanished into the fog at a time when I thought my yarn was spinning together. Incapable of forging onward with a degree of purpose, stuck between who I was and who I want to be. The answer resides in the middle. I know it. I see it. Yet, I can’t seem to live it. </span><br /></span><div><span style="font-family:times new roman;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;">I wonder, am I alienating the outside world, or saving them from me? Avoiding those closest to me, or protecting them from my anger, frustration and sadness?<br /></span></div></span><br /><div><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:130%;">This isn't a nightmare I won't wake up from. This disease is real and never-ending. "Accept the things I cannot change"... <em>right? Wrong? Or irrelevant? </em>Does it even matter?</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:130%;">Truth or excuse: If it wasn't <em>in my face </em>every day, literally and figuratively, I would see it differently. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:130%;">One day, we will live side-by-side, otherwise, <em>it </em>will have won. I just wish that day was today.</span></div>Dear Thyroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10521143586906111658noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7006999124546997586.post-28022943765099640372009-01-25T10:25:00.000-08:002009-01-25T10:27:25.759-08:00DON'T PANIC<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifiuAcXpxk7ZTDeUYlEWgcDs435pW0ZplRA8qaDoCpf_moII04-j3dy9A3SEIjHXu5nleE_FLIz4rCgGRR48NC_TbjcIxp9ZCQh_mI8Ge1SZ3DvQYOgyKFnVrXQ7_U6eqRJ6TV9nUkQ1Rv/s1600-h/1930swoman.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295299607809922642" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 133px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifiuAcXpxk7ZTDeUYlEWgcDs435pW0ZplRA8qaDoCpf_moII04-j3dy9A3SEIjHXu5nleE_FLIz4rCgGRR48NC_TbjcIxp9ZCQh_mI8Ge1SZ3DvQYOgyKFnVrXQ7_U6eqRJ6TV9nUkQ1Rv/s200/1930swoman.bmp" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div><br />Dear Thyroid got a makeover. What do we think? Do we love it or hate it?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7006999124546997586.post-32341835525435274182009-01-11T13:36:00.000-08:002009-01-25T10:25:07.529-08:00THYROIDLICIOUS<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAiIjPHeWHUIzHHNp0UTsjbKqATedo4gQwrC1gN8tEJvT-cYVCBmnBrNtFEaHWtFBny84WTs-mu14r3g3emhNrxg3eNIguUxwk1D50ViSo34jiE2qJz_WADQZuKQJL-QzcZJrC8VbLJWQE/s1600-h/women.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290153713681081634" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 138px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAiIjPHeWHUIzHHNp0UTsjbKqATedo4gQwrC1gN8tEJvT-cYVCBmnBrNtFEaHWtFBny84WTs-mu14r3g3emhNrxg3eNIguUxwk1D50ViSo34jiE2qJz_WADQZuKQJL-QzcZJrC8VbLJWQE/s200/women.bmp" border="0" /></a>Dear Thyroid,<br /><br />I know it's not your fault, it's just a mysterious occurrence that we can do nothing about. I don't want to blame Mom, either. She's gone through a lot, being hyper when she was younger and now, after having two kids, becoming hypo. It's just generally not fair, mostly because we have nobody to blame.<br /><br />But really, you haven't caused me that much trouble. Sure, I'm popping pills on a daily basis, but lots of people are doing that. It was definitely worse when I was taking PTU - five disgusting tasting pills twice a day - that was hell. But you've still caused me trouble. Mom said I was moodier. My periods have been more out of whack than ever. I just remember before I was diagnosed, Superbowl Sunday 2006, when, after waiting for six weeks, I had my period for twenty minutes and the blood just flushed right out of me while I was in the bathroom. It was horrific.<br /><br />I guess I'm a special case. What makes me feel the worst is the shape my body has taken because of you. Everyone I talked to said that hyperthyroidism increases your metabolism and makes you skinnier. How I wish it had been true for me, instead, I maintained a pudgy shape around the middle and could not lose weight, no matter what. Sure, my weight has fluctuated, but when it comes down to it, my weight has just been increasing.<br /><br />It makes me uncomfortable. Scarves are my best friend because they hide you from the public eye, which probably isn't even truly looking at you. I just don't know how to feel about you, and I don't know if you'll ever let me be normal again.<br /><br />I think that this blog, <a href="http://hyperthyroidlicious.blogspot.com/">Hyperthyroidlicious</a> might help me out, just get my ideas out there, but I really don't know. I can never tell if anyone is even listening to me.<br /><br />Well, here's to a good year. Let's hope that you get better, which will, in turn, make me better.<br /><br />Your Friend, More-or-Less,<br />MonikaUnknownnoreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7006999124546997586.post-34210872208148704292008-12-17T18:55:00.000-08:002009-01-25T10:24:49.994-08:00YEAH, I'M PUSHY LIKE THATFunny how what we know, we insist on pushing on others.<br /><br />A friend of mine has had a few symptoms over the last year or so, and I've ridden her about going to a doctor, what to ask, what to insist upon, blah blah blah.<br /><br />Her tests on Monday showed contained thyroid cancer. Her operation for full removal is 6 January. I've never been so happy that I was a pushy bitch in my life.<br /><br />Word.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7006999124546997586.post-42520751571232519902008-12-12T01:53:00.000-08:002009-01-25T10:24:36.133-08:00IF AT FIRST YOU DON'T SUCCEED...Wednesday was a swell day.<br /><br />No, really, it was.... until I got to the doctors office, and found out due to the size of my tumour, the level of my cancer, my age, blah blah blah.... a follow up ablation is necessary.<br /><br />I was taken off my meds immediately. Good-bye lovely synthyroid!! No more help from you!! Good-bye shrimp and other things I love with iodine in them! It's not FAIR!!<br /><br />I did this once, why again??<br /><br />This time, it'll be worse. Why? Because I KNOW what will happen. I know I'll get weaker and weaker (faster this time, since there is no residual thyroid in my body to keep me going), my bones will ache and be cold, I won't be able to stand the touch of cloth on my body, I'll itch, I will be SO weak.<br /><br />Then, the joy of the nuclear meds, when I'll hallucinate, sweat, have to take a zillion showers a day, and that's the fun part!! I've a body scan and a brain scan (no, Katie, I did NOT deliver that as a straight line to you! Ahahaha!!)<br /><br />I plan on keeping my running diary here, so I can come back and look at how it all went.<br /><br />I'm already itching like mad, and am up at this hour to change my sheets. It's either the beginning of my symptoms or I've got fleas.<br /><br />I'm in hopes it's the fleas.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7006999124546997586.post-31782774869429503582008-12-07T16:45:00.001-08:002008-12-07T16:51:04.390-08:00Dear Thyroid - OMG Why did I wait so long!!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNrX6O8JVIQlUyDm3eHfR8RUGEjPPoT4UtW4PPA55bz_SgVhqQt277HBGJgnY3tVFjHgNu0e5uX82XQ424QgA4ysx4pvqnhKPlNExPy8Kn_P3zRO9u6J95izWRwiQP0qMErixuDijJBwSn/s1600-h/FINMarihuana.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277214368795089378" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 147px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNrX6O8JVIQlUyDm3eHfR8RUGEjPPoT4UtW4PPA55bz_SgVhqQt277HBGJgnY3tVFjHgNu0e5uX82XQ424QgA4ysx4pvqnhKPlNExPy8Kn_P3zRO9u6J95izWRwiQP0qMErixuDijJBwSn/s200/FINMarihuana.jpg" border="0" /></a>Dear Thyroid,<br /><br />What the fuck did I ever do to you? You are a sneaky little bastard, sneaking up on me like this. Today's visit was the first step, damn you.<br /><br />Tomorrow we will take our asses to the lab, and eventually be told what we already know. Mom's got it, Mom's Mom's got it, and thanks to those good ol' hereditary genes, yup, so do we. Hypothyroidism. Why did I wait so long to do this?<br /><br />I know why, Im just angry at myself for letting it go this long.<br /><br />I'm 30 for Pete's sake! I'm damn near friggin bald, and what's left of my hair is speckled with gray! I'm suffocating my poor daughter with the thermostat set on 80, I'm a total friggin bitch, my skin is so dry and flaky I feel like pigpen walking around with a cloud of dry skin and hair around me. Its disgusting, and I hate you.<br /><br />I used to be pretty and feel sexy dammit! I dieted and lost 50 friggin pounds and felt so great!<br /><br />Sure, you were still torturing me, but slowly, so I couldn't notice what you were up to. Then WHAM!<br /><br />Lucky for us, that wonderful sexy ass man we are dating hasn't dropped our crazy ass yet, but I get the feeling he's getting a little tired of being pushed away after doing it like rabbits for 6 years. Still wondering why he hasn't proposed after all this time, my dear thyroid??? HELLO - we've been a raging friggin lunatic the last year and half! I bet it didn't help!<br /><br />So here it is, I'm giving you fair warning right now. Today's visit to Dr. Atkin was my way of telling you its on pal! It's not going to be easy, I know, but I want my hair back, I want my energy back, I want my sex drive and dammit I want my life back!<br /><br />And I'm going to get it. You watch me.<br /><br />Damn you for doing this to me right when everything else was so perfect. HELLO!?!? - weren't you there between the ages of 14-25??? Life was a NIGHTMARE! You wait until I've finally straightened everything out and I'm happier than ever to spring this shit on me? Real fuckin nice.<br /><br />ITS ON BABY, ITS ON!!!!<br /><br />Yours Truly,<br />MelissaUnknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7006999124546997586.post-16143465558830972082008-12-07T16:45:00.000-08:002009-01-25T10:23:55.129-08:00DEAR THYROID -- OMG, WHY DID I WAIT SO LONG!!Dear Thyroid,<br /><br />What the fuck did I ever do to you? You are a sneaky little bastard, sneaking up on me like this. Todays visit was the first step, damn you.<br /><br />Tomorrow we will take our asses to the lab, and eventually be told what we already know. Mom's got it, Mom Mom's got it,<br /><br />and thanks to those good ol' hereditary genes, yup, so do we. Hypothyroidsm. Why did I wait so long to do this?<br /><br />I know why, Im just angry at myself for letting it go this long.<br /><br />Im 30 for pete's sake! I'm damn near friggin bald, and what's left of my hair is speckeled with gray! I'm suffocating my poor<br /><br />daughter with the thermostat set on 80, Im a total friggin bitch, my skin is so dry and flaky I feel like pigpen walking around with a cloud of dry skin and hair around me.<br /><br />Its disgusting, and I hate you.<br /><br />I used to be pretty and feel sexy dammit! I dieted and lost 50 friggin pounds and felt so great!<br /><br />Sure, you were still torturing me, but slowly, so I couldnt notice what you were up to. Then WHAM!<br /><br />Lucky for us, that wonderful sexy ass man we are dating hasnt dropped our crazy ass yet, but I get the feeling he's getting a little<br /><br />tired of being pushed away after doing it like rabbits for 6 years. Still wondering why he hasnt proposed after all this time,<br /><br />my dear thyroid??? HELLO - we've been a raging friggin lunatic the last year and half! I bet it didnt help!<br /><br />So here it is, I'm giving you fair warning right now. Todays visit to Dr. Atkin was my way of telling you its on pal! It's not<br /><br />going to be easy, I know, but I want my hair back, I want my energy back, I want my sex drive and dammit I want my life back!<br /><br />And I'm going to get it. You watch me.<br /><br />Damn you for doing this to me right when everything else was so perfect. HELLO!?!? - werent you there between the ages<br /><br />of 14-25??? Life was a NIGHTMARE! You wait until I've finally straightened everything out and happier than ever to spring<br /><br />this shit on me? Real fuckin nice. ITS ON BABY, ITS ON!!!!<br /><br />Yours Truly,<br />Melissa<br /><br />PS Dont worry Dear Thyroid, there are more letters to come. Thank god for these 3 women who started this site. It was exactly what I needed today.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7006999124546997586.post-17910249756076281952008-11-30T11:50:00.000-08:002009-01-25T10:23:34.568-08:00DEAR THYROID<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjHRDvEF25sjIq3Rll3IOAzmzewAcYgjJ7-q96CrYTIT9kuOAbFq7FJXCm5TmygK5j1peIqQ8ygJmNJCOCYEPqzCz9T4t6Pk6VjzYwxqt67UNqu2vNbkq6BJXqMMVnAqD0YsuaJ6Faaehs/s1600-h/1930s.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274540701336048514" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 147px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjHRDvEF25sjIq3Rll3IOAzmzewAcYgjJ7-q96CrYTIT9kuOAbFq7FJXCm5TmygK5j1peIqQ8ygJmNJCOCYEPqzCz9T4t6Pk6VjzYwxqt67UNqu2vNbkq6BJXqMMVnAqD0YsuaJ6Faaehs/s200/1930s.bmp" border="0" /></a>Dear Thyroid;<br /><br />Tomorrow is a big day for us. We're going to meet with <a href="http://www.csmc.edu/14685.html">Dr. Braunstein</a> for a day of tests, tests and more tests.<br /><br />Oh joy. <em>Katie, stop being negative</em>. Okay.<br /><br />For those just tuning in, out of insurmountable frustration and a burning desire to give up, a last ditch effort, a bit of research, really, yielded a discovery -- DBraun. After emailing him my thyroid chronicle, medical mistreatment to the tenth power and topping it off with; "If you truly believe in healing, collaboration with a patient and think you can heal me, not just treat me, I look forward to hearing back".<br /><br />I did.<br /><br />I'm not hopeful. I'm open. I've been experiencing hypothyroid symptoms for months and hyperthyroid symptoms for the past six-weeks. The Graves' <em>disease-ee</em> mental kind: paranoia, anxiety, depression and anger -- go me -- The hypo mental symptoms are forgetfulness and an inability to wrap my head around anything. All of this translates to extreme difficulty writing and functioning. Physically, I feel like a 60-year-old. If I was 60, I wouldn't be the slightest bit blue. Being in my thirties, I am. Blue, I mean.<br /><br />I'm terrified he'll find more issues. I'm open to the possibility that he'll get to the root problem and fix it. My thirties, so far, have been consumed by my thyroid, loss and sadness. I didn't die, so I am grateful, of course. Hello. I have a pulse. What's bad? I don't have a life, though. I want my life back. I want to look and feel like me again, and I don't.<br /><br />Okay, Schwartzy, enough with the kvetchfest.<br /><br />I'll keep ya's posted.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7006999124546997586.post-78070198155600706512008-11-23T03:18:00.000-08:002009-01-25T10:23:21.349-08:00KEEP IT IN THE FAMILYI swear that, like a cold sore, I caught my cancer from my cousin, MB.<br /><br />She got it first, and, because she gave me everything from measles to a bitchy attitude, she gave me this, too. She swears we got it from our grandmother and/or the DDT truck we ran behind as kids. Either way, it's her fault because she insisted we run behind the truck.<br /><br />She's small, but, she's pushy.<br /><br />Her younger sister has had a number of our problems for years... and we've been yakking about it...mostly to whine to our respective mothers, "Annie's copying us again. Make her get her own disease..... this isn't <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">faaaaaaaaaaaaaairrrr</span>!!! Can't she have lupus or something????"<br /><br />After standing in a corner for two hours (thank GOD for phones with <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">texting</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">abilities</span>) we were allowed to join our families and eventually our children stopped laughing at us.<br /><br />On the serious side.... Annie did have the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">noticeable</span> things; lump showed, trouble swallowing, swollen ankles, dry skin... and, after she'd struggled to lose a great deal of weight... BOOM!!.... it popped back on in a matter of months.<br /><br />She avoided going in until I literally scared her to death with a slow reading of death by thyroid cancer.<br /><br />Yep.. she's got it. Low end of the spectrum, but, enough to cause problems. She'll join MB and I with our Benny the Shark neck scars in January.<br /><br />Copycat.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7006999124546997586.post-72626735567501378142008-10-26T12:16:00.000-07:002009-01-25T10:23:06.642-08:00DEAR THYROID, I'M IN A CONUNDRUM, WE NEED TO DISH<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp5_gBxp0T9OGRI1-aG99ujQHgVk9Ri26jFThOmYiXxap41BsDxpFMNK4pfH-gcbtf9ej7lBK8zsh-_mFRuJuz7BfpShF0REARHlZrR7Df-4oGS8wbRdshomrTLATLdVLMdGrbdFwOC8IL/s1600-h/ladysoul.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5261135388662490866" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 143px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp5_gBxp0T9OGRI1-aG99ujQHgVk9Ri26jFThOmYiXxap41BsDxpFMNK4pfH-gcbtf9ej7lBK8zsh-_mFRuJuz7BfpShF0REARHlZrR7Df-4oGS8wbRdshomrTLATLdVLMdGrbdFwOC8IL/s200/ladysoul.jpg" border="0" /></a>Dear Thyroid;<br /><br /><p>How are you? That's kind of rhetorical. However, I do appreciate your time. So, there's that; my approach. Respectful right? </p><p>Lemme tell ya, doll, it ain't easy. At the minute, you have me so freaked out, I don't know if I'm on spin or rinse. </p><p>Let's recap, shall we? I've released some of my anger towards you, not a lot mind you, but enough for now. Until I can control you, instead of you controlling me, I think we're in for a roller coaster<em>ee </em>relationship. </p><p>At present, you won't stay balanced and nobody can tell me why. Your Graves' ophthalmology isn't getting better. 4-years of swollen eyelids and questionable vision that can't be controlled with corrective lenses, compounded by conflicting opinions, compounded by susceptibility to retina damage and my own fear of, heaven forbid, the "S" word (surgery), <em>if, if, if </em>I can't get you under control has left me, well, reeling. </p><p>I'm scared of you. I don't know how to create a symbiotic relationship between us. </p><p>As a last ditch effort, I did quite a bit of research and found a reputable endocrinology unit in a prominent hospital quite close to me. I emailed the head of endocrinology and medicine. I didn't think he'd email me back, really I didn't. But, he did. We had a lovely email exchange and 30-minutes later his secretary called me to schedule an appointment. I'm seeing him in November. </p><p>Let me be clear. I am not hopeful. I am open. Getting <em>us </em>into his office will be an overwhelming challenge in itself. I am equal parts confident that I will not settle for hmm'ng and haw'ng and that I will walk-in armed with my records and a list of questions that I expect to be answered. By the same right, I know I'll be terrified of <em>yet</em> another opinion that yields questionable results. </p><p>This brings me to another issue. My records. Accumulating them from all of my various doctors is proving to be a lot more challenging than I expected. The most important doctor I need my records from isn't releasing everything. I know I can call the AMA. I know I can get a lawyer to get my records for me- I'm astutely aware of my options. What worries me, truth be told, is that he fucked up and that's why he's not releasing them. See, I think I know where he fucked up. I just don't know to the degree. </p><p>So, dear thyroid, I guess we'll just wait and see what happens, won't we? God willing, someone will be able to get you under control. Otherwise, I am nominating you for cunt of the year. </p><p>Loving/Hating you,</p><p>Katie</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7006999124546997586.post-84527225041931106392008-10-13T23:20:00.000-07:002009-01-25T10:22:44.998-08:00HEY! LET'S MAKE A SHIRTWhy not?<br /><br />We need to have shirts available, to those of us who deal with the thyroid.<br /><br />What will it read?<br /><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center">THYROID: THE LITTLE GLAND THAT CAN<br /><br /><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left">I'm not sure a picture of a thyroid beneath it, even one in a cute little hat, will help sell these... let's just stick to the slogan. </div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7006999124546997586.post-52205101446610433392008-10-12T17:23:00.000-07:002009-01-25T10:22:27.898-08:00I'VE KEPT THIS UNDER LOCK AND KEY IN MY SOUL<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLus8pLh4ICtCadaHbN4WYS_jpgz9IoM8XzM0lGD8Anuv0NoB3UilHsIyZT_O_VbeqMFElMCwISik1nGftKHd73eyIJRUZi0jKV39cIdeyxVGUfgMjC85K-6cJm5oiDD6KW6A3UA5YCctl/s1600-h/beautifulgirl.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5256428134223099826" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLus8pLh4ICtCadaHbN4WYS_jpgz9IoM8XzM0lGD8Anuv0NoB3UilHsIyZT_O_VbeqMFElMCwISik1nGftKHd73eyIJRUZi0jKV39cIdeyxVGUfgMjC85K-6cJm5oiDD6KW6A3UA5YCctl/s320/beautifulgirl.jpg" border="0" /></a>I have hypothyroidism. I was diagnosed in 2006. But let's turn the calender back to 1999. Up until that point, I had been a normal, healthy, if obese, 17 year old girl who had hopes and dreams of working in the field of music, either as a performer, songwriter or as a teacher. I had normally been a happy, bubbly girl who enjoyed playing her guitar or trumpet, writing poems and short stories and dancing whenever I could. I was usually on the honor roll and honestly enjoyed all of my classes (well, except for Renaissance Lit.... sorry, Mr. H!)<br /><br />Then I turned 18. Little by little, I became disinterested in most of my courses. I chalked that up to "Senior-itis" as I was going to graduate the following spring. It was hard to stay warm. I put on even more weight. I blamed that on my sweet tooth and my near lack of self control where candy was concerned. HOWEVER, I hadn't been eating any differently than I had been for the past 8 years. My skin turned paler, which was somewhat of a surprise, seeing as my grandmother was a Native American and I had inherited a lighter version of her coloration. I chalked that up to my preferring indoor activities after I had hurt my knee, which discouraged me from continuing on in the softball league. My skin became so very, very dry. I had no answers for that problem and went on to make Libriderm my "friend," but it never seemed to do more than to stop the itching, I was still painfully dried out on my skin. I resorted to wearing long dresses, skirts and pants to hide my legs because I was so embarrassed! I didn't know why I was so tired and sad more days than not. I also started feeling "foggy brained."<br /><br />Somehow, I thought I would start feeling better after I graduated. I was wrong. On what should have been a day where I felt accomplished and happy, I was a numb shell of a person. I was cold, tired, itchy because of my dry skin, exhausted and depressed. My mom has a photo of me in my cap and gown receiving my diploma from the superintendent, I looked like a person with no emotion, a shell. It makes me sad to look at that photo, I wish Mom wouldn't keep it in a frame. In any event, I was still as stubborn and bull-headed as I am now and applied to the state university intent on getting a degree in music education. I was accepted and made the 5 hour drive across the state to begin college. I managed to muddle through my first 2 years of school and began to enjoy my courses. However, all my other symptoms just got worse.<br /><br />I reached my breaking point when I realized that something was wrong with me during my first semester as a junior. I realized that I ran back to my dorm after every class and cried until I was too exhausted to do anything but lay there on my bunk. If I was lucky, I would have enough energy to wash myself up (so no one would think there was anything wrong) and get to my evening class. I went from being tardy once in a while to skipping classes because all I would do is cry myself stupid and try to numb myself. I couldn't pull myself up by the proverbial bootstraps, despite frequent attempts at it. I didn't want to get kicked out of school, so I dragged myself to the student health service and made appointments with the doctor and the counselor. The sessions with the counselor were not helpful, to be blunt. As for the doctor? All he did was take my vital signs, asked me how long I had been feeling as I did, then gave me a prescription for Paxil. That. Was. It. No tests, no asking about previous medical issues, if any. The Paxil did jack and shit for me.... aside from making me lose 10 pounds in one month because I constantly puked up anything I ate or drank (besides water). I went back to the doctor and he literally just gave me some samples for Lexapro and told me to take that instead. If anything, I became even more depressed. By that time, my grades had plummeted so low that I had been suspended and kicked out of that school. I still hate that doctor to this day. He could have gotten me the medicine I needed years earlier and I could have possibly not have been kicked out of music school if he had done ONE SIMPLE DAMNED BLOOD TEST!!<br /><br />I spent the next couple of years feeling hopeless and defective. I was even more out of shape, out of energy and my memory was questionable. I began keeping a journal at that point just so I could have a record of what was going on. I didn't trust my own mind to remember it. That old book is full now, and more than a few pages are tear-soaked. I don't go back and read it, it's too painful. Eventually, I was dragged to the local low-income health clinic by my mother because she was tired of me spending most of the day in bed and spending my waking hours in a numb state. It was then that I met an angel who went by the name of "Kathryn." She was a nurse practitioner. She noticed that I had taken antidepressants before and asked if I'd be willing to consider taking them again. I told her in a polite way, "when hell freezes over" and she RESPECTED my wishes. Next, she began looking for other causes for my problems. She ran -shock of shocks!- tests and exams! She did everything that the doctor at the college SHOULD have! She arranged for a TSH blood test, and found that my levels were quite low. I was Hypothyroid. She told me that there was treatment for my condition. I was nearly in tears when I heard that. I didn't have to always feel like I was stuck in the non-smoking section of hell! I began taking Synthroid that week. Within 2 months, my brain fog was virtually gone, I had energy, and I was seeing the tail end of my depression!<br /><br />A while after that, decided that I wanted to do something with my life again. Playing guitar and trumpet still bring back my sadness, so I didn't return to music school as I'd hoped. Instead, I applied to the local college. Despite my poor grades, they accepted me under the condition that I retook the classes I'd failed (that they teach at that campus). I worked my ass off and made the honor roll my very first semester there. Then I applied to the nursing program. I decided I wanted to help save lives like Kathryn had saved mine. I might not be alive today if it she hadn't helped me. As I type this, I am now a student nurse at my school. No one knows about the hell I've been through aside from God, my family and my advisor. I've been too scared until now to let anyone else know that I deal with this illness.<br /><br />Sign me as,<br />Thankful to Be Alive in Big Sky CountryUnknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7006999124546997586.post-25401525008910815532008-10-10T23:25:00.001-07:002009-01-25T10:22:07.604-08:00MY ANNIVERSARYHard to believe it's been two years.<br /><br />Two years since I drove myself to the hospital. Two years since I was alone and scared, sitting and waiting for them to take me back beyond the swinging doors. Two years since I was transferred to the operating table, the staff chatting with me since they knew me from other operations. Two years since I was there then gone into that empty place you go when you have surgery... alone except for one soul I felt with me, keeping me from being scared.<br /><br />Frightened is having an unknown, and someone there to hold your hand. Scared is doing it alone.<br /><br />Two years since I felt that presence with me, until I came completely awake, so aware they were there, I asked the nurse when they had left, even though I knew the physical body was many, many miles away. Two years since I woke up, unable to talk, tubes and needles in my arms and hands, nurses adjusting levels and drips and giving me water. Two years since I felt the pad on my neck.<br /><br />Two years since my doctor who was so wonderful said I had a malignant tumour. A big one. Two smaller ones. That he'd taken out my thyroid, along with it's evil twin.... that my lymph nodes were clean, that it hadn't entered my blood stream.<br /><br />Two years. I went on to six weeks of waiting, one hour of treatment, a week of isolation and then my blessed meds. As I move on, more stuff shows up that is touched by the thyroid...high blood pressure, I can't retain calcium anymore (they took my parathyroid..oops!) an inability to control my body temperature, eventually heart issues... the thyroid is the little gland that can. But, you know, it's not cancer. It's not a relapse. I'm good with that.<br /><br />It's Breast Cancer Awareness month... something we all need to check for, including men. I have one of the orphan cancers.. no ribbons, no races, no real funding. It strikes three times as many women as men, usually in their 20's. The older you are, the tougher it can be. Watch out for the symptoms... rapid weight loss or gain, hair loss, swollen ankles, a lump (my only symptom) being so tired.... Be proactive should you have any of these... it's a sneaky cancer, with TSH levels showing normal when you are actually ill. All of my blood results were clean the day of my operation, and I had Stage Two cancer.<br /><br />I'd love to think cancer can be eradicated... Sometimes, I think they do have the cure, but, the drugs are so expensive, so many people have it, why cure something that generates so much money?<br /><br />Buy cancer health insurance... I wish I had it. It's cheap, and you'll need it should you reach that dark place.<br /><br />Cancer is second to love in the realm of scary words in any language. Be aware, be proactive. If you know someone with cancer, let them talk about it... listen. Bring food... bring yourself. It's not catching, it's just scary... and, when we are in recovery, when we are in treatment, when we are tired and struggling to simply get out of bed--food and company, even short term company, is appreciated. Show up! People tend to shy away... to convince themselves it's better to leave that friend or family member alone, let them rest.<br /><br />Trust me, we'll tell you when you need to go. Cancer makes you very outspoken, no time for bullshit. Show up, help out... do a load of laundry, or change the bedding. Be there for us. When alone, the imagination runs wild... I used to swear I could hear the malignant cells trying to lure the good cells over to their side.. wearing cheap blue taffeta dresses and garish makeup... "Come on, big boy! Come to the dark side!"<br /><br />Your body has betrayed you. It's turned on itself, eating itself. Why me? you think... what did I do to get this? (My cousins and I ran behind the DDT trucks... I've a feeling that's our source) There is anger and frustration at the waiting for treatment, irritation at paperwork and tests and the way you are suddenly weak, hair falling out...so, so, sleepy. Breathing becomes a task.<br /><br />Medicines and time in bed, and the fight to win the battle, the war. Do not be afraid, your love and friendship and concern are needed to shore up the sometimes overwhelmed loved one.<br /><br />I know many with cancer right now... two of them had no signs, and suddenly, they are in serious shape. I have a friend whose mother is now in the battle. It's interesting that both women I worked with when I was employed by The Man also have cancer... The Godmother is back to work, and cancer free. The other found out she has 4th stage breast cancer... no signs, clear mammogram. My cousin, MV, has the same cancer I do, and her sister is being checked next week. It shows how prevalent cancer is these days.<br /><br />Check, have tests done when you are at that age or if it runs in your family. Be conscious of your body, listen to it... then, be firm with the medical profession. You know your body, they don't.<br /><br />Two years. It changed my life in a ton of ways, gave me new friends, let me weed out emotional vampires.<br /><br />Remission is a happy, happy place... trust me.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7006999124546997586.post-48317309853142324102008-07-19T11:05:00.000-07:002009-01-25T10:21:50.522-08:00DEAR THYROID, WRITTEN BY: MADAM Z<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijqc-Wg70OKgFVLxTHKIhwd8UIUSVY64UnNFwS1oSGSFXr7XnlotXL-aUaT59ozxTMU0b7KB-ixW1EWEX677J5zMBfvyMERMYV1XX3cP3f3PvLgWTJg4RWIMsCUreSPX980DgfD2c5cek/s1600-h/redhead.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224788532346628386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijqc-Wg70OKgFVLxTHKIhwd8UIUSVY64UnNFwS1oSGSFXr7XnlotXL-aUaT59ozxTMU0b7KB-ixW1EWEX677J5zMBfvyMERMYV1XX3cP3f3PvLgWTJg4RWIMsCUreSPX980DgfD2c5cek/s200/redhead.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Dear Thyroid,<br /><br />I’m not even sure you are still alive, but I feel that I must try to speak to you. It’s been 17 long years, and it’s crazy to keep this grudge going. We were so close for so long; remember? I never even questioned our friendship. We had a perfect, symbiotic relationship. I gave you good nutrition and iodized salt, and you gave me the perfect amount of thyroid hormone I needed. I felt good. I was healthy and energetic. And then, everything went haywire. You came under the bad influence of Dr. Graves. You started pumping out so much thyroxin that I got sick. I don’t think you intended for that to happen. You just got carried away. It must have been exciting, seeing just how much you could produce. But you almost killed me. I was so revved up with nervous, non-productive energy that I thought I was going crazy. I ate like a fiend, but lost 10 pounds in two months. It was like driving a car, with one foot on the gas and the other on the brake. So I went to the doctor, and he blamed you for all my problems. He said that the only foolproof way of getting better was to kick your ass with radiation. Okay, I suppose I should have consulted you, but I was so sick I wasn’t thinking straight. And I thought that the doctor would be able to apply just the right amount of radiation that would slow you down, but not kill you! So, I stuck my head into a lead-lined cage and drank the evil brew, while the administrator of the poison cowered outside the room. I can just imagine how horrible it was for you to be attacked by that radioactive iodine, which subsequently broke you down, until you could hardly push out any hormone at all. But I suffered too, old friend. I had thought that I would start to feel better after the treatment, but I got worse. Dr. High-and-Mighty hadn’t told me that was to be expected. It was only when my employer was ready to fire me because I wasn’t performing my duties well enough (“You said you’d straighten up after you got the radiation treatment. What’s your excuse now?) that I went back to the doctor for help. He told me it was to be expected that I would get worse before I got better, because as the radiation was battering my thyroid, the poor gland was squirting out hormones like a demented fire hose. So he wrote a note to the evil boss, entreating him to be patient with me. You, of course, couldn’t see the expression on the SOB’s face as he read the note, but he looked disappointed that he couldn’t fire me, without looking like the heartless bastard he was. So I stayed on the job, miserable but determined, while you got pulverized. Little did I know that you were so beaten down that after a couple of months you had nothing left to give, and I went from having too much thyroid hormone to too little. I felt like a zombie after a rough night in the graveyard; I had no energy, no strength and no hope of ever feeling better. But the wonderful world of medicine stepped in again and introduced me to Levothyroxine, a little purple pill that replaced most of the hormone that you were no longer able to give me. It’s not as good as the genuine article, but it gets me through the days and years, and I’d be dead without it. I keep hoping that you will be resurrected someday and we can resume our old, close friendship. Can you hear me? Are you there? If so, is there any chance of reconciliation? Give me a sign, little buddy.<br /><br />Sincerely,<br />Madam Z<br /><br />About Author <a href="http://z-to-u.blogspot.com/">MadamZ</a>: <em>"I can be your online grandma if you're under 20, your online mom if you're between 20 and 40, and your online sister if you're over 40. You can be *my* online mom or dad if you're over 80. OR, we can all just continue to shoot blurbs into the ether and see if anyone responds. The chances of a response are probably slightly better than sending a message in a bottle out to sea."</em>Dear Thyroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10521143586906111658noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7006999124546997586.post-13566717649539643722008-07-06T16:35:00.000-07:002009-01-25T10:21:13.595-08:00THYROID DISEASE FROM THE PHARMACIST PERSPECTIVE<a href="http://www.blogger.com/thatsmyskull.blogspot.com/2007_01_01_archive.html"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5220049173858303794" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2Z7VrN5zdCjje29wJF58RKe8Dvvgzz9gkgRpI7pj0pZBt0ANA2rdw60xeUkz8gS1UyBEZP_9YEcBMm9spsQfeySQAd6-bt6tCT_33qkHGK5tuw3BBfQShzC5r_947G1ihmt_qgsQtOnU/s400/pharmacy.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div><div><a href="http://drugmonkey.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;">DrugMonkey</span></a><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;"> is a writer and a pharmacist; he’s also a brutally honest, discerning and delightful fellow. We adore him <em>hard</em> at Dear Thyroid.<br /><br />I love this monkey for many reasons: He’s a brilliant writer, edgy and raw, unafraid to expose the underbelly of the pharmaceutical industry and its impact on “<em>we the consumers</em>”. He’s also one of the most genuine, supportive and kind individuals I’ve come across. We’ve become friends, for which I am eternally grateful. DM was there for me when I was at my sickest point, struggling with thyroid psychoses and being borderline thyrotoxicosis. He helped me get through it, something I didn’t think I had the strength to do.<br /><br />He Blogs </span><a href="http://drugmonkey.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;">DrugMonkey</span></a><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;">, one of my favorite reads. He writes openly about being a pharmacist and his customers, sharing things we need to know about: insurance, generic vs. brand name drugs, recalls, <em>supposed</em> upgrades to medications commonly used, and so much more. Here are some links to categories worth reading (I was going to choose a few articles. There are just too many gems to choose): </span><a href="http://drugmonkey.blogspot.com/search/label/An%20Insiders%20View%20Of%20The%20Profession"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;">An Insider’s View of the Profession</span></a><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;">, </span><a href="http://drugmonkey.blogspot.com/search/label/Wacky%20Customers%20And%20Other%20Work%20Rants"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;">Wacky Customers and Other Work Rants</span></a><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;"> and </span><a href="http://drugmonkey.blogspot.com/search/label/General%20Weirdness"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;">General Weirdness</span></a><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;">—plain hysterical and worth the read.<br /><br />As one of our resident experts, we had some questions for him that he generously answered in true DrugMonkey fashion. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;"><span style="color:#cc9933;">How long have you been a pharmacist?</span><br /></span></strong>16 years. I guess the fact my pharmacist's license would be old enough to drive now makes it impossible to deny my membership in the club of middle age any longer. Sigh.<br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc9933;">Have you worked in private/small pharmacies as well as large/chain pharmacies? If so, what is the difference?</span></strong><br />I did rotations through small places when I was in college, and have been in chain stores that did over a thousand scripts a day. The main difference in the profession these days is how independents have reacted to the profit squeeze put on pharmacies by the insurance industry. I know it's hard to believe when you plunk down $200 for your month's pills, but there is far less money to be made filling prescriptions than there used to be. Chains have responded with volume, looking to fill more and more prescriptions per person, and with expanding their front end to the point where they are mini-mass merchants. Independents have done this to some extent as well, but have also gotten into things like custom compounding or proprietary dietary supplements to try and support the bottom line.<br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc9933;">In the time-frame you've been a pharmacist, how many thyroid patients would you say you've encountered?</span></strong><br />Here's something everyone suffering from thyroid disease should know; you are far from alone. Every pharmacy everywhere in the country has the entire range of thyroid replacement meds on their fast mover rack. I'm sure the answer to your question is in the tens of thousands.<br /><br /></span></span><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><span style="color:#cc9933;">What do you know about thyroid disease?<br /></span></strong>It's common. Like I said earlier, you are far from alone if your 'roid is giving you trouble. It's treatable. Thyroid isn't fibromyalgia, where you throw something against the wall and hope it sticks, and you don't really know if what your throwing against the wall is sticking. Repeat; thyroid isn't like that. Left untreated, it can mess you up in ways you wouldn't think of. More on that later.<br /><br /></span></span><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><span style="color:#cc9933;">What percentage of thyroid patients, in your experience, have insurance vs. those without insurance?</span><br /></strong>Hmmm.....what any individual pharmacist will see varies a lot based on where they work. Not only the neighborhood, but the type of store. People without any insurance are more likely to gravitate to mass merchants like Wal-Mart where they can get their meds the cheapest. Over 90% of the prescriptions I fill are billed to someones insurance, but I'm sure if I was plugging away for the sons of Sam Walton, that number would be different.<br /><br /></span></span><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><span style="color:#cc9933;">What thyroid horror stories have you heard?</span><br /></strong>I've seen people misdiagnosed and struggle for a long time. Hypothyroid can at times look like depression, and I've had customers go through a slew of the Prozacs, Zolofts, and Effexors before their diagnosis got nailed down. The New York Times just had a story yesterday that featured an oldster who was put on anti-psychotics when the problem was hypothyroidism. It didn't surprise me to read.<br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc9933;">What thyroid recovery stories have you heard?</span></strong><br />I had a customer who at one point gave up on her career as a real estate agent because she never felt like going out of the house. A couple years ago she finished her first marathon. She's also smoking hot now. Last I heard she had a total boy-toy of a man. Sigh.<br /><br /><span style="color:#cc9933;"><strong>What are your thoughts on Synthroid vs. Armour?</strong><br /></span>I never dispensed much of the Armour until I moved to California. Either one is a perfectly acceptable treatment for hypothyroidism, so when I say Armour thyroid stinks, I'm literally talking about the way it smells, and not making a comment about its effectiveness. Nothing stinks like a bottle of Armour Thyroid. The Armour is made from dessicated pig hormone, so it's definitely not for you if you're a vegan type. It contains a combination of all the different thyroid hormones, whereas Synthroid is a synthetic version of only the main one, levothyroxine, or T4. It's a plausible theory that you would get better results using a thyroid blend, and there is no shortage of anecdotal reports that say just that, along with a scientific paper or two, but we may never have solid proof, as proving things takes money, and there isn't enough money to be made by settling the question.<br /><br />Bottom line; if you're taking Synthroid and it's working, keep taking it. Do not make a switch if things are fine. If the Synthroid isn't cutting it for you though, it might be worth asking your doc about the Armour.<br /><br /></span></span><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><span style="color:#cc9933;">What are your thoughts on the various treatments available to thyroid patients with Parathyroid disease, Hypothyroidism, Hyperthyroidism and Thyroid Cancers?<br /></span></strong>Let me hit home the point again that thyroid disease is treatable. Totally treatable. If you're hypo, your missing hormone can be replaced. If you're hyper, the absolute worst case scenario is taking down the thyroid gland and giving you the right amount of replacement hormone. Parathyroid? Treatable. Thyroid cancer? Serious, but not as scary as other types.<br /><br />Just know that you'll get there, eventually. It'll be frustrating, because you'll feel bad, and there will be no news for days at a time, and you'll wait for weeks for an appointment for 10 minutes of attention and you'll leave still feeling bad. But you'll get there. Not nearly fast enough I know, but just hang in.<br /><br /><span style="color:#cc9933;"><strong>What health insurance issues should thyroid patients be aware of?</strong><br /></span>Where to start. Good Lord where to start. You need to know your insurance company's primary goal is not making sure you get the best treatment, it's to get you to stop filing claims they have to pay. Sometimes the best way to get you to stop filing claims is to cure you. Sometimes the best way is to throw down a gauntlet of prior authorization requirements, outright denials, and pointless paperwork for you and your doctor to run through. Dealing with your insurance will very likely be the most frustrating part of your path to a cure.<br /><br /></span></span><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><span style="color:#cc9933;">What do you think is the best health insurance for thyroid patients?<br /></span></strong>Medicare. I am very sorry to have to say this, but the private health insurance system in this country is rotten. It's broken and needs to be destroyed. We could make a Xerox copy of the Canadian health care system, spend less than we spend on Medicare and Medicaid alone, cover everyone, and have money left over to make improvements. You may eventually get the care you need out of your private health plan, but you will drag them kicking and screaming and fighting you and your doctor every step of the way. I wish I could tell you some are better than others. I can't. They all suck and it makes me sad.<br /><br />By the way, if you are employed in an area of high demand and are fluent in English, you are almost a shoo-in to be accepted for permanent Canadian residence. Not that I've looked into that for myself or anything....<br /><br /><span style="color:#33cc00;"><strong><span style="color:#cc9933;">You work with a lot of endocrinologists, when assessing an endocrinologist, what advice can you give thyroid patients?</span></strong><br /></span>This will be counter intuitive, but don't necessarily go with your gut. I've seen doctors who totally knew their shit sow distrust among their patients with just an awful bedside manner. I've also seen doctors with very good people skills whom I would not ask for directions to the gas station. It's hard for the average schlep to evaluate medical competence. That's part of why your experience will be so frustrating.<br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc9933;">What are your thoughts on holistic and alternative remedies for thyroid patients?</span></strong> </span></span></div><div><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:130%;">There are times when alterna-medicine can hold its own and stand toe to toe with the traditional Western type. Thyroid disease is not one of them. The diagnosis is straightforward, and progress can be measured objectively, making it right in Western medicine's sweet spot. Alterna meds may be of some value in symptom relief, but please, please, please don't depend on them for a thyroid cure. </span></span></div><div><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color:#006600;"><strong><span style="color:#cc9933;">What else would you like to add that you believe we need to be aware of to become our own patient advocates?</span></strong><br /></span>Make your health people prove and explain everything. "I'm hypothyroid? Oh, what were my lab numbers?" "Why are you giving me these stinky pills again?" "How long should it be before I see results?" You're paying for their advice. Make them give it to you. </span></span></div>Dear Thyroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10521143586906111658noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7006999124546997586.post-23924042704202202962008-06-28T09:44:00.000-07:002009-01-25T10:18:27.623-08:00DEAR THYROID ON MYSPACEHello Fellow Thyroidians;<br /><br />Our Editor, FriedaBee has redesigned the <a href="http://myspace.com/dearthyroid">MySpace Dear Thyroid </a>page and it is off. the. hook. GORGEOUS. <a href="http://myspace.com/dearthyroid">Check it out</a>....<br /><br />Forthcoming Interview today or tomorrow with our resident expert, <a href="http://drugmonkey.blogspot.com/">DrugMonkey</a>!Dear Thyroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10521143586906111658noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7006999124546997586.post-14841773235732050792008-06-24T10:30:00.000-07:002009-01-25T10:18:12.487-08:00DEAR THYROID, I MISS YOU AND I'M SORRY<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1YD-ONLl1MJLgvMQhs0TpRzNBOxL8JTH1x2fG-cPIkwP5i7J_plZ5xUuxvP23rDMLtxY0WTONnVFQRX4cB6HpLuD1WP-8CUMs92BuBsLgtqgP_6L4zO3TREvvo-529t2skE_0N-4RtmYB/s1600-h/fbavatar.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5214444086376704434" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1YD-ONLl1MJLgvMQhs0TpRzNBOxL8JTH1x2fG-cPIkwP5i7J_plZ5xUuxvP23rDMLtxY0WTONnVFQRX4cB6HpLuD1WP-8CUMs92BuBsLgtqgP_6L4zO3TREvvo-529t2skE_0N-4RtmYB/s320/fbavatar.jpg" border="0" /></a>I feel bad, like it's all my fault, you know, that you had to leave. Back when I was in Jr. High and High School I virtually pushed you over the edge with all that dieting, bingeing and purging. I wished that I could eat all that I wanted and still loose weight. I know now what I didn't know then, that I was growing into a woman and that curves are normal, even if they are accompanied by all those pesky and uncomfortable sexual feelings.<br /><br />I know you tried to warn me that you were enlarged, begging me to take better care of us, but I didn't know you even existed then and no one who did took you seriously. I know that by the time I was pregnant at 23 you were only doing what you figured I would want, enabling me to eat as much as I wanted and still lose weight. That was the first time in my life when gaining weight was welcome. Honestly, it was liberating. I needed that, a time in my life when the pressure to lose weight was off. By the time I had nursed my first daughter for one month, I weighed less than I had in years, and I felt beautiful. I was able to eat and eat healthy foods and continue to lose weight. You know I would have kept things like that indefinitely, your doing all the work.<br /><br />So, I can hardly blame you for swelling up, bleeding. I put you through three more pregnancies and plenty of drugs and alcohol, still with nary a thought... until it was too late. I thought a goiter was an old lady disease and I was scared when my midwife told me you were sick. I'd never even been to a doctor for a physical, even in the year I had insurance through my work and there were all those ten day fasts; I simply did not know.<br /><br />And then, as soon as we met, you had to leave. You gave me quite a scare. You were so big and there were the fears we had cancer. They said I could nuke you, and I thought that was no way to live a life, and decided to have you extracted. There is a small bit of you still here, a withered portion damaged by our raging bits. Sometimes I like to think that it's just enough that you might miraculously grow back, but every year I discover no such thing has occurred and I take that pill every. morning. for. the. rest. of. my. life.<br /><br />Sometimes I fear that some sort of natural disaster will have me scouring pastures for some innocent animal whose thyroid I must eat to survive, and I am humbled by my acquiescence a consumeristic society that makes a CVS or Walgreens at every corner a comforting sight. I just wanted to tell you that I am sorry for all those years I took you for granted. I know that with our family history we were bound to part eventually, but more love on my part may have postponed our premature parting. I can say simply didn't know, but wonder if that would have been enough anyway. I miss you.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7006999124546997586.post-73822189285354908362008-06-09T22:28:00.000-07:002009-01-25T10:15:56.806-08:00KATIE SCHWARTZ, EDITOR: GRAVES' DISEASE AND GRAVES' OPTHAMOLOGY DIVA, OR SO SHE LIKES TO THINK<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq6qDhZG3s1BE5nOUXj-5dlJ0w61vvrfkhUjwTEXtkjxMYpx00ybpelGht5V8DeT9hn8PwytXqt8LlEcm-KD2LNCe8NhHvaIsdv0XugVaRLbBoqDdx2EF5WaSdhBWQyt_Trdpe5nQR7i8/s1600-h/blog.gif"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210121630365791890" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq6qDhZG3s1BE5nOUXj-5dlJ0w61vvrfkhUjwTEXtkjxMYpx00ybpelGht5V8DeT9hn8PwytXqt8LlEcm-KD2LNCe8NhHvaIsdv0XugVaRLbBoqDdx2EF5WaSdhBWQyt_Trdpe5nQR7i8/s200/blog.gif" border="0" /></a><br /><div><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">Katie is the author of </span><a href="http://katieschwartz.com/buy_the_book.html"><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">Emotionally Pantsed</span></a><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">, forthcoming from </span><a href="http://sonewpublishing.com/"><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">So New Publishing </span></a><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">in 08’. EP is her debut collection of non-fiction humor essays about her life and <em>many</em> mistakes; until her world was turned upside down by Graves’ disease for six-years, the impetus that sent her into weekly <em>shrinkdating</em> sessions with her psychiatrist <em>Shrinktail</em>. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">Her essays have been featured in Ostrich Ink, </span><a href="http://monkeybicycle.net/preorder/"><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">Monkeybicycle</span></a><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">, Dirty Humor Issue #5, </span><a href="http://farmhousemagazine.com/"><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">Farmhouse Magazine</span></a><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"> "Winner of the 2006 Editor's Choice Awards, </span><a href="http://girlistic.com/"><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">Girlistic Magazine</span></a><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">, </span><a href="http://opiummagazine.com/"><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">Opium Magazine</span></a><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">, <em>Katie Schwartz on <a href="http://guthagogo.com/">Amy Guth</a></em>, </span><a href="http://www.tlchicken.com/"><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">Tastes like Chicken </span></a><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">and </span><a href="http://sixsentences.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">6S</span></a><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">, among others publications. Many of her essays have debuted at Comedy Central’s </span><a href="http://sitnspin.org/"><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">Sit-n-Spin</span></a><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">. Katie recently read one of her essays from EP at </span><a href="http://guthagogo.com/fixxreadings.html"><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">The Fixx Reading Series</span></a><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"> and was fortunate enough to speak on some pretty groovy writerly panels at the </span><a href="http://www.pilcrowlitfest.com/panels.html"><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">Pilcrow Lit Fest </span></a><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">in Chicago. You can read her daily rants about life, love—or lack thereof and social commentary at her Blog, </span><a href="http://katieschwartz.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">All the Way from Oy to Vey</span></a><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">. Or check out her website, </span><a href="http://katieschwartz.com/"><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">KatieSchwartz.com</span></a><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">Katie has had Graves’ disease for six-years and a rare variation of Graves’ ophthalmology for three-years. Thanks to modern medicine, the gift that keeps on giving (okay that was bitter); she went undiagnosed for three-years, until one day when her eyelids swelled up like balloons. Sending her vision from 20/20 to I’m fucking blind. Dozens of ophthalmologists couldn’t figure out what made her eyelids swell. Off she went to an internist who specialized in rare and infectious diseases. He checked her vital organs and her thyroid and deemed her normal! </span></div><div><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">Katie spent the next year dating dozens of doctors and specialists (she did get fondled and felt up, so it counts). Though nobody was able to connect her severe psychological and physical symptoms, including that pesky eyelid issue, she was given numerous drug cocktails; all exacerbated her symptoms and made her sicker. Two-years ago, she went to the Jules Stein Eye Institute and was given the diagnosis of Graves’ Ophthalmology. JS referred her to an endocrinologist who diagnosed her with Graves’ disease. </span></div><div><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">As luck would have it, she discovered that her internist, who gave her a <em>normal-stamp-of-approval</em>, lied. That and she had an adverse reaction to the treatment the new endocrinologist dispensed called <em>Tapezole</em>. Within a year of being on T-hell, she became borderline thyroid psychotic and thyrotoxicosis. </span></div><div><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">Her loving and wonderful mother and sister saved her life by extreme measures and took her to a new an endocrinologist with a very aggressive approach (love letter forthcoming). That endodaddy saved her life. He almost took it again, too, but that’s a forthcoming hate letter. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">As of May 25th, 2008, Katie has a normal thyroid. She will continue seeing her endocrinologist (forthcoming love letter) every month for at least six months and will keep you posted on her progress. Her Graves’ eye specialist said that once her thyroid is stable for six-months, her eyelids should come down and her vision should improve. If not, Katie might be a candidate for a non-invasive procedure. Again, she will keep you looped. </span></div><div><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">Katie continues to see Shrinktail (forthcoming love letter). </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">Katie’s insurance company broke up with her immediately following her diagnosis. Ultimately, she did get insurance, just not private insurance (hate letter forthcoming). </span></div><div><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">It’s been a hell of a journey—<em>literally</em>. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">Katie wanted to create Dear Thyroid because at the height of her sickness, overwhelmed by fear, anger and isolation, she wrote hate letters to her thyroid. In hindsight, it became cathartic. And she wondered if other thyroid patients felt similarly or would be interested in having a space to share their letters, too. </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">I wanted to co-edit and co-develop this epistolary series with </span><a href="http://fmdn.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">QuinnA</span></a><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"> and </span><a href="http://freidabee.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">FreidaBee </span></a><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">for countless reasons. My co-editors are fabulous, insightful, brilliant, beautiful women who have walked the thyroid mile in different ways. I'm excited about working with them. They courageously shared their stories with me and offered invaluable support. They are as passionate about creating awareness regarding thyroid issues that plague us, as I am. </span><a href="http://drugmonkey.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">DrugMonkey </span></a><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">was also quite instrumental in Katie's thyroid debacle as well, and offered lots of advice and support. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">With thyroid diseases, often times, doctors don’t know how to connect our symptoms dots, or so it seemed from my perspective. Few people know what a thyroid does, or where it’s located, or how deadly this <em>seemingly</em> benign butterfly gland can be. </span></div><div><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">We wanted to create a space for all of us to write love letters and hate letters to our thyroids, those who healed us, and hurt us along the way and to create camaraderie. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">Don't be shy, send us your Dear Thyroid yarn. We’ll be posting each and every one. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Love,<br />Katie</span> </span></div>Dear Thyroidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10521143586906111658noreply@blogger.com2