Or as I call it, “yesterday.”
I got the results of my thyroid scan yesterday and, to no one’s dismay, I have Hashimoto’s Disease.
I have to take my Cytomel twice a day, without exception, and continue to diet if I want to lose weight. And not eat after 7:15 p.m., which I tried to say was almost impossible since I don’t get home from work most nights until 7 p.m., but he was having none of it. There is no answer to my weight gain other than to diet, which I hate, but there you have it. The added Cytomel should help, but I’m stuck for the time being.
Oh and did I mention that they also found a lymph node on my sternum?
It’s tiny, and not hard, and you can’t even feel it, though it’s a bit tender to the touch, but that’s probably from all of the force we applied to that area yesterday, trying to unearth it, but talk about the things you don’t want found on you. My doctor made some calls, and brought in the opinion of an oncologist he knows, and she was unfazed. As I was told, it could be the result of a sore throat you’re fighting off, which I have been for days.
“You’re healthy, we’re not worried about it,” he said.
I called Scott and told him about it, and that we weren’t going to worry if the doctors aren’t going to worry, but I did worry about it, to the point of tears, and I ended doing what I always do about things that upset me, and I bury it down deep as I can and try and ignore it. I work, work, work. Of course, as soon as work was over for the day, and I had nothing else but me, a package of frozen chicken breasts and no desire to cook, worry made itself known. No sooner had Scott walked out the door to pick up dinner did I shotgun several Girl Scout cookies before I knew what hit me. And then had a veggie sandwich. And some fries. I woke up this morning with a painful, upset stomach, and kinda laughed at how predictable I am.
I’m not beating myself up for anything more than not dealing with my anxiety in a more productive fashion. Old habits, they die hard, but it’s no excuse. I know better.
I should have talked to my husband about how scared it all made me. I should have talked about how frustrated I am that I can’t just eat and work out like I used to and not worry about gaining weight on top of my efforts. I can’t tell you how much it sucks, and how utterly defeating it is. And while I like myself a great deal, I’m just not at a weight where I feel comfortable. It’s not a matter of being skinny. It’s a matter of not carrying 10-15 extra pounds on me while I run, dance, lift or bike. It’s a matter of not being able to fit into my clothes. But I’ll diet if that’s what it takes to be at a weight where I feel comfortable, that’s the honest to God’s truth.
This means, of course, dealing with my feelings much better than I did last night.
I don’t really know how I’m going to manage not eating after 7:15 p.m., but we’ll try it. I trust my doctor, and I can make do. I told Scott that I don’t expect to be able to do this every day, and especially not on weekends when we have dinner plans, but I’ll make do. And I’ll make sure to take my medication in the afternoon as ordered and not forget it. AND not eat my anxiety into the bottom of a box of cookies or a bag of chips or a pile of french fries – I managed to stop myself before I finished those, which shocks me to no end.
In the morning light of today, I’m doing exactly what my doctor ordered me to so, and that is not to worry. I’m fine, and it was just a shock to the system, a scare. And I’m lucky to have awesome health insurance and health care (AHEM), so even if it had been something we could have handled it. But I have some work to do on handling my stress better. There’s no pill for that,
you still fit AND look ravishing in your wedding dress…almost a year later…just wanted to remind you of that…I hope today is a better day!!!!
Oh you’re so sweet.
Mia beat me to the punch. If you don’t mind two cents from a periodic reader of your blog, my first and only reaction was, “But she looks very nice in the pictures she posts; not at all overweight.”
Anyway, I have a relative who really struggled with Hashimoto’s. The medication will help you to feel better. Give it some time.
Oh, sure. But I am. Not hugely so, but enough that my clothing choices have become limited. And I don’t think I look horrible, but those extra pounds are cumbersome, and when you put a lot of effort into your health, and still you gain? It wears on you after a while!
But yes. I’m really hopeful about the medication!
Erin, I have no advice or anything – just that my thoughts are with you. I think it sounds like it sucks, but I also think you are a smart, take-charge kind of lady and you will find a way to make Hashimoto’s your bitch.
That’s interesting – I’ve never heard the don’t eat after a certain time rule and I’ve been living with this for 13 years.Did they give you a reason why? If you’re taking the cytomel in the afternoon than I assume it’s not to have an empty stomach at bedtime when taking meds? Is it because of having a slower metabolism due to the Hashimoto’s? I am very curious – if you’re willing to share the explanation.
Tamar, it’s just weight-loss advice, not Hashimoto’s. I think he was taking into consideration my thyroid condition and things I could do lose weight. I’ve heard plenty of times that you should stop eating after a certain hour, and I’ve heard from others that it doesn’t matter. He also wants me to do regular interval training. Just ideas, you know?
Tamar, do you take your meds at night?
Oh, Erin. Yuck. I was just diagnosed with Hashimoto’s myself, but since my TSH is juuust normal and my free T4 is juuust this side of normal, my doctor won’t do anything, despite the exhaustion, unexplained weight gain, depression, ridiculous hair loss and family history of hypothyroid (mom and an aunt on each side of the fam).
I can so relate to the clothes and the trying to be healthy. I’ve cut out soda completely, I’ve gone almost completely off carbs, I have been going to the gym at least three times a week and still I only have one pair of jeans that fits, because I went to Wal-Mart and picked up a pair of $20 Lees because none of my others fit. I can’t wear 90% of my clothing right now. And none of it will matter or get better until my TSH inevitably dips into the “abnormal” range and the doctor decides I can be treated.
All that to say: I feel you, my friend.