Last week, we headed back to Lexington for a few days. Trevor had to work, and I had my next blood test to look forward to at the endocrinologist's office. As I mentioned in a previous blog, my regular doc was out of town, so I was going to be seeing his partner. I had never met the guy before, and I was worried that he wouldn't take my symptoms seriously.
The nurse drew my blood, and I waited in the packed waiting room for over an hour while the lab was getting my results. There was not one free seat available, so I never got up once for fear of losing my comfy plastic chair. I had my Kindle to keep me company, but I think I did a lot more people-watching and eavesdropping than reading. I'm only human.
As soon as I was called in to see the doc, I could feel my heart start to race. What if my levels were great and the exhaustion is from something else? Worse, what if the exhaustion is all in my head? Fortunately, sort of, my TSH levels were down significantly from my previous reading, but they were still no where near where they should be. The doctor wants me between a 0.1 and a 0.2: I'm currently at a 22. I was happy that the levels are dropping but frustrated that they're still so high. The random doc said he would up my meds - again- and see if we could get the levels down. I was a little taken aback because everyone who knows anything about thyroid meds is surprised by how much I am taking. I asked the doc if I was a total freak for needing such a high dose. After he stopped laughing, he assured me that I was not a freak at all. Apparently some people metabolize the meds quicker than others, and my body needs what it needs. Whew. I'm not a total head case. Well, not for that.
The doc said he didn't need to see me again for six months, but that doesn't work for me. I cannot and will not feel like this for six more months. SIX months? No way, no how. I need my energy, I need to not be fat as Jabba the Hut, and I need some relief. Word. So I booked an appointment with a doc here in town so I could get the test done sooner. Plus, even though I really like the practice down there, I don't want to do the six-plus hour drive every two months until this is all fixed.
The doc did an ultrasound while I was there to make certain that there had been no regrowth of my cancer since the surgery. After making the obligatory "It's a boy!" joke, he said that the ultrasound was clear: no cancer. Even though I'm still not feeling 100%, I was relieved to hear that I'm still cancer-free.