Time may not heal, but it has allowed me to calm down since my last rant about the doctor visit. The next day, the doctor called me with lab results and they weren’t as I expected. I brace myself to expect the worst of every medical report and in my head the worst would have been cancer related. Instead, my results were more treatment related. It seems my already challenged thyroid has slowed down even more. In fact, my dosage of meds is higher than some people who have had their thyroid removed and it is still underfunctioning. Nice, huh? Off to the endocrinologist . . .

In the meantime, the increased doses of the meds has relieved some of the muscle pain in my legs and given me more energy. My doggies, who have now gone on extended walks and a couple of runs in the park, are eternally grateful. Of course, I too am grateful for not feeling like such a rundown crabby slug. The thyroid is an amazing cog in the body machine and when it isn’t working properly it is amazing how overall crappy one feels both physically and emotionally. Seriously. It also has an effect on cholesterol levels and a whole slew of other health indicators. Women are particularly susceptible to thyroid conditions and Tamoxifen can also interfere with thyroid function and/or thyroid medication. I highly recommend that anyone experiencing symptoms of thyroiditis request a simple blood test to check TSH levels at their next wellness check.

I’m also patiently awaiting trips to the dermatologist as well as the gynecologist. With an aging population and the spike in obstetrics malpractice insurance, I’m surprised there aren’t any (at least in my area on my insurance plan) plain old gynecologists who don’t practice obstetrics. It would be nice to have a doctor focus on gynecological wellness without the office being a happy baby office. I think the happy baby people should be segregated in their happy baby environments and let those of us not dealing with happy baby issues not be faced with photos of happy new babies, parenting magazines, and glowing women mindlessly rubbing their pregnant tummies. In the meantime, until a qualified doctor picks up on my great suggestion, I will visit the happy baby office and see my new gynecologist who looks like a ten year old that shouldn’t even yet know where babies come from let alone be examining those parts.

And if three referrals and a follow-up recheck weren’t enough, it is also time to see my favorite plastic surgeon soon to talk about my final reconstruction issues. Although I haven’t actively had anything done for the last ten months outside of a recheck, it sure seems like reconstruction is taking longer than puberty did. All in good time, I suppose. All in good time.