I should have just finished my 2nd soccer game of the season, but a giant thunderstorm began just before half time and the referee called the game.

Which was actually a very good thing, because I’m having a serious problem with energy and I wasn’t sure I would be able to finish the game.  I forced myself to play tonight, but I started shaking, and then my hands started to go numb.

I’m getting sick of this stuff, you know?  I’m doing everything I know how to do, but it’s not enough.

Last week I saw my doctor.  I haven’t posted my medical history yet, but I’ll give you a short summary:  I was diagnosed with Hashimoto’s thyroiditis in the fall of 2010.  Only he didn’t exactly tell me that’s what I had.  He said “thyroiditis” and put me on medication.  At one of my follow-up appointments this year, I asked him how long I would have to take medication. “Oh,” he shrugged, as if I should have already known, “probably for the rest of your life.  It’s an autoimmune thing.”  Oh.  Sure.  Wait, what?

So I went home and googled autoimmune thyroid disease and discovered Hashimoto’s.  He didn’t actually say “Hashimoto’s” until my appointment last week, and he has given me no information on the disease or how to cope.  And he goes entirely by blood test results – if my results are fine, I’m fine, and if I say I’m not fine, it’s in my head.

I suggested that Synthroid might not be the right medication for me.  “No, it’s the right one.”  But I feel awful.  “Then you must be depressed or something because your blood tests are fine.”  Is there anything else you can test for?  Vitamin D, iron, hormone levels?  “No, it wouldn’t be anything like that.”  Isn’t there another medication I can try?  “No, this one is fine.”  So why do I feel so bad?  “Well, it’s not because of your thyroid or anything else.”

I recently found out that there’s an endocrinologist in his office.  I requested to see her, and he said no.  “She’s not going to tell you anything I’m not already telling you.”

Except… he’s not telling me anything.  So, last week I asked again.  I practically begged.  I asked him to please, please, just let me see her once and if she actually can’t do anything beyond what he’s doing for me, then I won’t bother her again.  He agreed, and I got an appointment for tomorrow.

I hope she can help me, because I don’t know where else to go.  A dietician?  An internet doctor?  A naturopath?   A crazy guy in a basement with a handwritten sign saying “THYROID HELP HERE”?

Back to energy.  Last week I began the first of several photo shoots for a new client.  I photographed 80 kids doing yoga.  I wasn’t sure I would be able to do it, but I made it through the week.  I don’t think I’ve ever appreciated a long weekend more in my life.

It’s hard living your life not knowing if you can complete your day-to-day tasks.  It’s stressful worrying about how much energy you’re going to have when you wake up in the morning.  It’s tough plastering a smile on your face in front of other people when all you want to do is crawl back into bed.

It could be worse.  It could be WAY worse.  But I don’t want to live my life this way anymore.  I keep pushing myself forward and trying to find the next step and the next answer and the next thing to try to see if I’ll feel better.  Sometimes I’m not sure how much more disappointment I can take.

When I started writing this post, it was supposed to end on a positive note.  So, um… GO TEAM?


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