words

[Guest guest]

OK, so what's a good word for this: the last week before your scan, which

needless to say is a hypo scan, you get a grand total of about three or four

hours' sleep, which is called severe sleep deprivation, which is extremely

dangerous for you, and nothing you try, from herbal teas to warm baths (sure,

it's

80+ out at 11 PM and you try a warm bath...that's true desperation) to

extra-strength Tylenol for the pain in your legs, to Percocet left over from

your

parathyroidectomy in late April, to a particular kind of self-massage you do for

your lymphedema that normally knocks you out before you're done, to your

father's Ambien to some Excedrin PM that you try the night of (i.e. a few hours

after) your scan on Monday, none of that makes you sleep.

And that week, your calf muscles are sometimes excruciating, and the last few

days, from Friday morning until the following Wednesday (when you very

bravely and shakily go cane-less to your checkup with your gynecologist), you

are

literally unable to walk, and when your father kindly comes up on Sunday to help

you out, he brings you a cane that he once used, and you ask him to stop at

the front desk in your building and request a key to your apartment, because

you won't be able to make it from your living room (to which you can barely make

it, but you have to because that's where the phone is and you didn't have the

presence of mind to move it to the bedroom, which conveniently has a jack,

but that's hypo swiss-cheese-brain stuff for you) to the front door of your

900-square-foot apartment! Oh, and bright or even hazy light blinds you...but

you

happen to mention that at your local thyroid cancer support group's next

meeting, and two other people who also have light eyes (theirs are blue, yours

are

green) nod when you tell them that happened to you, and the light dawns, so

to speak, so you know the photosensitivity is hypothyroid-related.

Now THAT's hypo for you! (A couple of people tried to reassure me with some

words about hypo insomnia, but what I had goes beyond trouble sleeping...I

literally got no more than a few hours' sleep for a solid week, no matter what

natural and artificial sleep aids I tried...warm milk with honey, which always

works for me, was naturally out of the question! And I've seen and talked with

other people who were miserable while hypo, but they were able to walk...I

was leaning very heavily on that cane, and my dad left it with me in case I ever

need it again!)

Barbara (much better now, walking very well, sleeping well, hands and feet

only slightly swollen, I-123 still up in the parotids, oh yes, the scan was

clean!)

[Guest guest]

Have you tried setting this in iambic pentameter verse? Seriously, it'd be

therapeutic and we who are hypo would get a chance to smile about something.

-Kelley

words

OK, so what's a good word for this: the last week before your scan, which

needless to say is a hypo scan, you get a grand total of about three or four

hours' sleep, which is called severe sleep deprivation, which is extremely

dangerous for you, and nothing you try, from herbal teas to warm baths (sure,

it's

80+ out at 11 PM and you try a warm bath...that's true desperation) to

extra-strength Tylenol for the pain in your legs, to Percocet left over from

your

parathyroidectomy in late April, to a particular kind of self-massage you do

for

your lymphedema that normally knocks you out before you're done, to your

father's Ambien to some Excedrin PM that you try the night of (i.e. a few

hours

after) your scan on Monday, none of that makes you sleep.

And that week, your calf muscles are sometimes excruciating, and the last few

days, from Friday morning until the following Wednesday (when you very

bravely and shakily go cane-less to your checkup with your gynecologist), you

are

literally unable to walk, and when your father kindly comes up on Sunday to

help

you out, he brings you a cane that he once used, and you ask him to stop at

the front desk in your building and request a key to your apartment, because

you won't be able to make it from your living room (to which you can barely

make

it, but you have to because that's where the phone is and you didn't have the

presence of mind to move it to the bedroom, which conveniently has a jack,

but that's hypo swiss-cheese-brain stuff for you) to the front door of your

900-square-foot apartment! Oh, and bright or even hazy light blinds you...but

you

happen to mention that at your local thyroid cancer support group's next

meeting, and two other people who also have light eyes (theirs are blue, yours

are

green) nod when you tell them that happened to you, and the light dawns, so

to speak, so you know the photosensitivity is hypothyroid-related.

Now THAT's hypo for you! (A couple of people tried to reassure me with some

words about hypo insomnia, but what I had goes beyond trouble sleeping...I

literally got no more than a few hours' sleep for a solid week, no matter what

natural and artificial sleep aids I tried...warm milk with honey, which always

works for me, was naturally out of the question! And I've seen and talked

with

other people who were miserable while hypo, but they were able to walk...I

was leaning very heavily on that cane, and my dad left it with me in case I

ever

need it again!)

Barbara (much better now, walking very well, sleeping well, hands and feet

only slightly swollen, I-123 still up in the parotids, oh yes, the scan was

clean!)