Shake the Disease

So, there will be no dog in the Jonniker household. At least for a little while. Our friend the breeder called tonight and said he wished he had better news, but she has no tear production in either eye – in fact, after a visit to an apparently-renowned eye specialist, she’s missing all of the glands – and the fact that she’s so young means that she’s going to have a lifetime of eye infections. She’s already had four in her short little life. In fact, Mr. Doggie Eye Specialist offered that prophylactically, he could *remove her eyes one at a time* when she was a little older, depending on what happens. So she’s likely to have at least one glass eye. Oh, and did I mention she needs eyedrops to function every 30 minutes, at a minimum? Usually 20? So we’d be sitting there, smearing eye drops on her eyes every 20 minutes until they removed them. How does one live while smearing eye drops on an eye every 20 minutes? It’d be like living in the hatch on Lost, but with less time between duty.

The poor baby. So…the breeder is keeping her, for obvious reasons, and I’m so bummed. I mean, I don’t have *time* for an eyeless dog that needs ointment on her eyeball every minute, so I’m not the best person for her. Our dog is out there somewhere, I’m sure, and she’s staying right where she belongs. He loves her and will be good to her. I feel so horrible for her my heart hurts, but it’s the right thing for her and her happiness and health.

*sigh*

Separately, to keep this positive, I want all of you to run out and get blood tests done for your thyroid. Right now. GO! GO ON!
I have hypothyroidism – Hashimoto’s, to be specific. Thyroid disease is a weird, strikingly common thing, and it manifests itself in ways that are often mistaken for other things. The effects can be damaging, though, and if you haven’t been checked, please do it. I didn’t even know I had it until I had bloodwork done during a routine exam, but the second I did, my whole life started to make sense. And here’s where it gets gross, and I apologize in advance for the grossness.

I had awful periods. I know everyone says that, and I know I alluded to it before, but really, it was bad. Like, I had some form of my period for roughly 20 days out of every month. Car rides took on a whole new meaning – I would have to really think about how long I could handle being in a car without a disaster striking, which included my morning commute. Often, I would have to stop at the gas station for, erm, touch ups at least once on my way to work in the morning. And cramps. Cramps. CRAMPS. The cramps were so bad that they would literally knock me to the ground clutching my stomach in agony, radiating to my back, legs and even my arms sometimes, I swear. It would wake me up from a dead sleep and on occasion, for good measure, I would throw up – my poor, pathetic body’s lame attempt at trying to ease the suffering. And no amount of pain killers would help – they would dull the pain slightly, but it would still be there. I’ve had ultrasounds, multiple gynecological visits and panics of endometriosis, premature menopause and other maladies, which turned up nothing so far, which only created more panic. I mean, no one could figure it out, really, since symptoms like mine only come with endometriosis, which it didn’t appear that I had…

It was horrible.

Did I mention I also gained 20 pounds? And got anxious? And depressed? And FAT? DID I MENTION I GOT FAT?And the cramping. THE CRAMPING OF DEATH. Seriously folks, it would stop my life. There was no working, sleeping, reading or eating or ANYTHING during The Cramps except for laying immediately on the floor wherever I happened to be standing, which resulted in Adam finding me on the floor in numerous locations throughout the house, from the closet to the garage. Seriously.

And all this time I thought I was crazy. Crazy because I had this horrible body doing horrible things and no one could figure out why. Crazy because I was so anxious and depressed that I would have to lock myself in the bathroom and cry because I didn’t want anyone to know exactly how insane I felt. Crazy because I was working out 4+ days each week and still gaining weight.

Synthroid, thy name is God.

After I was diagnosed, I started taking it, and while there weren’t any immediate changes, over time things improved. I lost weight. I became less anxious (though quitting my job and therapy and meds helped, I totally believe the thyroid was responsible, at least in part). And my periods? I just have one thing to say about that: This? THIS IS WHAT EVERYONE BITCHES ABOUT?! THIS?! You’ve gotta be kidding me. Cramps, schmamps. I mean, not that this isn’t annoying, as bleeding out of any orafice is stinky, but this is so beyond manageable in comparison, you have no idea. And the cramps? Minor. I go without painkillers now, even when I get them. Because they are nowhere near what I’m used to, and I like to see what it feels like. No, really.

And again, I’m not fat anymore. BOO FUCKING YAH! I mean, I’m not Brooke Burke or anything, but my clothes fit. Loosely, even. And while my TSH levels (don’t ask or you’ll start to snore) aren’t where they should be yet, they are closer to fine and my body has stopped acting like a freak.

And it is so very good to not be a freak. So even though I don’t have a dog, I can say for the first time in a very long time that I’ve got my health.

And that’s pretty great. And not to sound too greedy, but I still want my dog. Now, please.

*Depeche Mode

19 comments February 1st, 2006