Damn Thyroid

Remember how, back in February, I had a really awful doctor's appointment to check out my thyroid?  Well, I'm going back to the awful place on Monday to get this all squared away because all of a sudden, I'm having symptoms of hypothyroidism.

Let's start at the beginning.

I have a TSH (thyroid stimulating hormone) test done every three months, because Lithium can screw with your thyroid.  The two most recent times I had this test done, my TSH was a little high, which indicates hypothyroidism (that sounds like totally backwards logic, I know, but it makes sense when the doctors explain it).  So my psychiatrist, in February, insisted that I see a PCP to get it checked more thoroughly and potentially go on thyroid medication.  I went to North Country HealthCare, because they're very geared to people without insurance, and they have a sliding scale fee so what you pay is based on income.  I'd been there once before about 2 years ago to see a psychiatrist, and I had a horrible experience.  Like, horrible.  Which is why I ended up finding my current psychiatrist and all that.  Needless to say I was reluctant to go back but I thought, it's been 2 years, maybe I'll be pleasantly surprised.

Nope.  The woman I saw was completely incompetent.  I explained to her right off the bat that I was on Lithium, my psychiatrist had wanted me to see someone, and that my thyroid might be off from the Lithium.  She launched into some BS about how I needed to have an STD exam and tried to schedule it for me . . . I was like, um, no.  She asked me twice if I was seeing a psychiatrist despite the fact that I said that to begin with, and I had to tell her I was on Lithium 3 times before it stuck in her little tiny brain, and when it finally did, she was like, "You're on Lithium?  Have you considered that you might be bipolar?"  I was like wtf?  No, dumbass, I take it just for the hell of it because y'know, I enjoy poisoning myself.  She also made me do a whole body exam where I laid on the table and she touched me damn near everywhere, which was both awkward and unnecessary.  I was so uncomfortable.  In the last 5 minutes of the visit she suddenly became marginally useful and ordered a T4 test; T4 is the hormone that will be low if you have hypothyroidism.  I got my blood drawn that day and figured I'd hear back no later than a week from then.

Well, fast forward to the end of March, and I've gone a month without any contact from NCHC.  I finally called them and was told that the provider hadn't signed off on them yet (really? after a fucking month?) and that they'd have her call me.  A week and a half later, still nothing, so I called again and got the same BS, and then a week after that I called again and the same thing happened.  I'm assuming that they needed me to come in for results but no one ever actually said that so . . . yeah.

Really, I wasn't too concerned, because at the time of my appt. I'd been having no hypothyroid symptoms, and I didn't think there was really anything to worry about.  I was just aggravated with the unprofessionalism.

And then, the past two weeks, I have felt like hell.  Last week, I missed work because I was too tired to be  there; I've damn near collapsed every day this week as soon as I got home from work.  I'm just flat out exhausted all the time.  My muscles are sore and weak all over, especially my legs and arms, and my face has swollen up a couple times.  My period this month was totally irregular, and I've gained 10 pounds in the past 2 weeks.  And I realized this morning that every single one of those symptoms is a symptom of hypothyroidism.

Well, shit.

So I called NCHC today (2 damn months after I was seen) and got an appointment for Monday so I can find out what's going on and start treatment.  I don't want to go back there in the least but I can't keep living like this . . . I'm freaking miserable.  I hate feeling so out of it, especially at work.  I hate not being able to work out, and I really hate that I've gained weight after I was working so hard to lose it.  (As far as that goes, I'm just telling myself to relax, and that once the thyroid thing is taken care of I can focus harder on losing weight.  And besides, it's not like there's a deadline on the weight loss thing, and if I don't hit my goal at the end of the year, I can just keep at it next year.  Because life is just life . . . but that's another entry).

I made it clear to the receptionist I spoke to that I was not happy with the way things were handled.  I'm seeing the same woman I did last time and I was told that this will be the last time I can see her since she's leaving the practice; I said that was fine because I have no intention of setting foot in that clinic again after this next appointment.

So that's that.  I'm actually really relieved to know what's going on with me, because I was really freaked out at how bad I was feeling.  At least this is something fixable.

It's COLD!!!

The Peaks got snow last night/this morning.  I don't know how much, I just know they got snow.  We didn't get any here in town (just lots and lots of rain)  but I doubt it'll be much longer!

The apartment is freezing.  How cold?  Well, since I was in high school--so for more than ten years--I have slept topless in a pair of shorts year round.  It's what's most comfortable to me and I actually have not been able to sleep in pants for a long time.

Until this morning.

I woke up around ten AM freezing my ass off, so I got up and changed into a pair of sweats and one of my thermals and crawled back under the covers.  And I actually slept like that!!

This is a big deal.

I Want To Grow Old With Someone

Just something that's been on my mind the past few days.

To me, the concept of being married really did mean for the rest of my life.  And I didn't doubt that once Corey and I were married we would be together for the rest of our lives.

And I really did used to imagine (and still do imagine sometimes) what it would be like to grow old together. I wondered what we'd look like as we aged and I wondered who we'd become with each other, and I looked forward to that.  Knowing that I had that with someone was one of my favorite things about being in a relationship--even when it wasn't so great, I believed we had a future.

When I worked at the walk in clinic there was an elderly couple (in their late '70's) who came in just about every week to see one of our doctors.  They'd been married for almost 60 years, and they were just a very nice couple.  I loved seeing them every week and since they always came in on my days, we got to know each other well.

I loved seeing them together, because you could tell they were just still in love with each other even after all that time together.  He still always opened the door for her and made sure she got whatever she needed first; she was a few years older than him but since his health was poorer, she still worked to support them both.  (She finally retired not long before I was fired, thank goodness).  There was just something in the way they looked at each other that told you they'd really spent a life together.  I remember seeing them together and thinking, if I ever find that with someone, I'll get married, but if I can't have that, I don't want anything.

More than a year ago now, I found her obituary in the Flagstaff newspaper.  I actually cried, both because I liked her and because I thought of him and how lost he'd be without her.  I still check now and then to see if his is in there, because I can't imagine him holding on for very long without her.

Something made me think of them today.  Even now I'm still kind of amazed by them, because they had issues in their life--health problems for one thing, plus her still having to work at almost 80 (she never hid that it was difficult for her, and he always told her he was grateful)--but they were still in love.  And it makes me think of how few the problems Corey and I had were, and how if we'd just tried a little harder and not let petty BS come between us things might have worked out.

Hopefully someday . . .

But for now, rest in peace, Mrs. M.  And Mr. M, I hope you're doing all right.

Is That A Urinal?

This evening after I got off work, I had about 40 minutes to kill until I had to walk to the bus.  So I wandered into Bookmans, because it's next door, and did some browsing.  And I got to pet a really cute puppy.

It was about time to leave so I decided to go to the bathroom.  So I walk to the back of the store and go into the bathroom, and when I get inside I think to myself, why is there only one stall in here?  I thought there 2.  But whatev.  I walk towards the stall and in the space next to it there is . . . a urinal.

Yep, I went into the men's room.

I don't know how I managed that, because I've peed at Bookman's before.  The only thing I can think is that before the remodel, Bookman's had non gender specific single bathrooms on either side of the little alcove, and I used to always use the one on the left, which is now the men's room.

Needless to say I booked it out of there and into the women's room.  I'm just glad the bathroom was empty because I'd have been truly mortified if there'd been some poor dude using the urinal when I walked in.

Courage/An Anniversary

Today it's been 10 years since I got my tattoo.  It's still the only tattoo I have--a small, black Kanji symbol on my lower back that means courage.  I got it when I was 17; my mom had to go to the tattoo parlor with me and sign a permission slip so I could get it.  It cost me $30, which included the tip.

I'd wanted a tattoo for a while when I got it.  My parents had always taken the stance that they'd let me get one if I paid for it myself and it wasn't anything bad (like a swastika or something, y'know) or huge.  I liked the idea of a Kanji tattoo but could never decide what I wanted.  So I kind of gave up the idea.  Then I watched this episode of the X Files that revolves around tattoos, and at one point, one of the characters (I think it was Scully) said that tattoos should reflect on the skin what lies within the soul (or something along those lines, I'm paraphrasing a little).  And it was kind of that idea that made me decide to get a tattoo.

Initially I wanted the symbol for strength.  But the symbol for courage was a bit more complex and a little prettier, so I chose that.  And yes, my tattoo really does mean courage--it was verified by Jenny's dad, who spent like a zillion years in Japan when he was in the Navy.

The thing is, I haven't had a lot of courage the past few years.  I've been kind of a pussy in a lot of ways and I need to get over it.  So today, since it's been ten years since I made courage a permanent part of my body, I'm reminding myself that I need to be brave.  I need to decide what I want and go for it and live my life courageously.

The Hummingbird Story

This story is probably going to be a little weird and gross to people but whatever.

First let me say that I watched and read The Velveteen Rabbit a lot as a kid.  If you've never read it it's a really depressing kids' book about a little boy who gets a stuffed rabbit for Christmas.  The fancier toys don't really like the stuffed rabbit, and a kind rocking horse tells the rabbit about being real vs being a toy.  A toy becomes real when its owner really and truly loves it.  Eventually the rabbit becomes the little boy's best friend and he gets shabbier and shabbier.  Then the little boy comes down with scarlet fever, and the rabbit is in his bed during the whole ordeal.  Once the boy recovers the doctor orders all of his clothes and bedding and things burned to avoid spreading the disease--including the rabbit.  But the rabbit falls out of the trash pile and avoids being burned, and he cries a real tear because he's so sad about the little boy having thrown him out.  Then a fairy comes and turns him into a real rabbit, and he gets to live happily ever after with the other real rabbits in the forest.

This story affected me deeply as a child.  It made me cry and it made me believe that all of my toys had souls, and would be sad if they were thrown out.  (This is why I have such an extensive stuffed animal collection . . . because I really can't throw them away).

Anyway.  I also believe that all real animals have souls and should be properly laid to rest, which brings me to my actual story.

The other day Jerbs and I were walking along the sidewalk in between Pita Jungle and Wildflower, and we saw a dead hummingbird.  I have never seen a hummingbird up close, and this one was so tiny and bright, and his neck was broken.  It made me so sad.  I decided he needed a better resting place than a sidewalk.  So I scooped him up with a bag I had in my purse and I put him in one of the big flower pots nearby.  So this little hummingbird had a beautiful resting place in the flowers and it made me feel like I'd done a good deed.

Then a few days ago Jerbs randomly told me that in Aztec lore, the heaven that Aztec warriors go to is different than the heaven other Aztecs go to.  The normal Aztec heaven is just heaven, but the Aztec warrior heaven is all flowers, and the warriors live on there as either butterflies or hummingbirds.  So the Aztecs believe that hummingbirds hold the spirits of their warriors.

I think that is so beautiful!  And what made it even more beautiful was when Jerbs explained that there are two kinds of Aztec warrior.  One is the actual Aztec warrior.  But the Aztec also consider women who die in childbirth to be warriors, which is awesome.

So I like to believe that little hummingbird I gave a beautiful spot to was the spirit of a woman who died in childbirth, and that I helped her spirit to move on and feel free.

Like I said, I know that anyone who reads this will think I'm gross for just touching random dead animals, and crazy for thinking all that about souls and resting places and spirits.

But to me it was a really beautiful thing and it makes my heart happy.