What I Have Learned - Take Thirty-Two

I have learned that I hate my thyroid.

For the first 401 months of my life, I never thought much of my thyroid. In fact, I can't say I even cared at all about its very existence. Then suddenly my world came to a screeching halt, all thanks to my delightful thyroid.

Now, in case you don't know, your thyroid is this butterfly shaped thing at the bottom of your neck. It isn't very large, about 5cm x 1cm x 1cm on each side. But when it decides to misbehave - watch out, because it can get really pissy.

Mine all of a sudden decided it didn't want to function properly anymore. It was a fluke that I even had the blood test done for it, so I was quite surprised to hear there were problems.  After the first couple rounds of blood tests,  I was then sent to a specialist. The specialist ran all sorts of tests I had never heard of. I was poked, I was prodded, I was scanned and examined.

Diagnosis - seriously messed up thyroid of unknown medical condition. In English - three different tests, three different diagnosis, none of them matching. Nice, huh? But one thing they all agreed on, two tumors in my thyroid, one of each side.

So now my world is engulfed in thyroid language, discussion, and treatment. My thyroid apparently is very selfish and in need of constant attention, because not for a moment will it allow me to forget it exists. As soon as I start to take my mind off of it, it either sends excruciating pain throughout my neck, or messes with all my other body functions.

It is pretty safe to say I am not very fond of my thyroid. I know I should probably be saying kind words to it, singing it sweet love songs, massaging it tenderly, but I think we are past that point in our relationship. I think we are at a mutual disdain for each other. Sad, but true, if a skillful surgeon were to cut it out and dispose of it in a medical waste bin, I don't even think I would miss it.