From the Horse's Mouth

As I explained to my counselor yesterday, I hate taking pills. I hate feeling dependent on synthetic crap to make me "work right." I hate needing medicine. I hate owning up to the fact that I have any disease or disorder. But I do: High blood pressure. Hypothyroidism. Diabetes.

I talked at length for most of our session to make clear the feelings I have about asking my doctor to go back to taking medicines that regulate my hormones and insulin output. I do take high blood pressure medicine without complaint...mostly because I feel horrid if I don't. The headaches and general discomfort have hammered that prescription into my daily life. I hate that, too.

But I went on and on about how I've been able to regulate the Diabetes AND increase thyroid activity by diet and exercise - not to mention that I've been truly consistent with neither for a year. Of course I didn't mention that part! Fortunately, I've been to this counselor regularly since before my mom died and she knows that while there was a good six months, once upon a time, when I DID do spectacularly well via diet and exercise (and was improving my BP and every other important regulated system in my body,) that time is past...and my attitude toward drug-taking is obsolete.

I tried to diffuse her argument, saying that I did it once so could do it again. Do you know want what she said to me? She said, "Isn't that interesting that you want to be healthy, but you want to do so on your own terms. You want everything to work out the way you want it to, but you're not willing to do the things you need to do for that to happen." I was quiet for the pause. "Isn't that what your mother tried to do?"

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I can't say what I felt at that wallop, but I heard the truth. And in the span of only a few minutes, I relived the aching hours spent watching my mom's body disintegrate before my very eyes. That is what she tried to do. How much am I like her? And how do I stop before I become what she has become?

The question led me to a day long search for a physician who works with patients who experience metabolic syndromes like Diabetes and Hypothyroidism (and whose family history is full of heart disease and strokes and cancers).

I found someone who has a private practice over 2 hours north of where I live and I'm going to go see her. I've already sent her an email sort of outlining what is happening with me. My luck, she is taking new patients and can accommodate out of town people like me...and has done gobs and gobs of work to help individuals like me whose genetic predisposition is the suck.

So tonight/this morning I feel intensely mortal, delicate as tissue paper, and have not been able to sleep with all the worry over what my body is doing now. I am sorry it took such a jolt of awareness to make me look in the mirror that doesn't reflect Wendy: separate from her mom, but Wendy: the overlay on her mom's sad image. At least it took.

Here We Go Again

I have a confession to make: I suck at taking pills. Years ago, I received the diagnosis of hypothyroidism from awesome Dr. Hong when he had a practice with his partner in Charlottesville. He was my PCP at that time and was probably the most thorough physician I'd ever known. I'm not a good patient, though. As much as it should become a habit, I lost the want to take thyroid pills (I just felt so stereotypical i.e. fat chick with low metabolism/thyroid trouble) and would only wish to resort to taking them when my energy felt drastically low.

But, I couldn't just take the pills even if I was unbearably tired because there is a warning about stopping and starting this particular prescription - it is something you have to gradually increase in volume or ween from once you've had blood work properly analyzed and are on a closely-watched regimen. I got tired of the maintenance because I was so used to feeling a lack of physical (and sometimes mental) energy.

For someone with the problem, I've managed to get along pretty well aside from my not losing any weight. I found ways to fit in naps, ways to work around spending too much energy at any one time, and how to schedule my day around my drowsiest hours so that I can have them and still function "normally." I have handled my diagnosis in a very mind-over-matter way. Sometimes I even convince myself that I'm doing great.

That can't be true, though. How can I be doing so great, but still be this size? I'm not really doing great. What I'm doing is coping.  I am doing a great job of coping. What I really want is to be doing great. Get me?

Like it or not, the pills help me when I take them so I'm eyeing the possibility of taking Synthroid again. To do so would mean: A visit to a new physician. Regular blood drawing. Tiresome history reports & other paperwork. Kicking my own ass to take the pills consistently. It looks and feels like a lot of work just to take one stupid daily pill; however, I have to ask myself 'how much work am I doing just to cope with the problem?'

Having slow metabolism prevents me from losing weight at the rate and pace that normal people can. Having slow metabolism messes with the process of my girl parts. Having slow metabolism breaks my day up into segments of can or can't. Having slow metabolism  makes digestion even harder. Having slow metabolism turns out to be a much bigger chore than taking Synthroid and, if the preceding statements weren't enough, that seems to be what motivates me.

I called a family physician and I can get in to see her on Tuesday.

EDIT: I had an interesting conversation with a nutrition coach this afternoon and I am going to put the idea of getting a Synthroid prescription on hold for now. First, blood work to get all my levels of everything, then some dietary changes, then some blood work to get all my levels of everything, then see if the hormone replacement is still necessary. Coming up: My consultation with Ivana Kadija and the start of a new venture (and friendship, I think!)