There’s a part of me that realizes it’s been a few days since my last entry and I need to do my best to make up for my absence…offer up a blog-full of laughs.  But, to be quite honest, I’m not feeling too “cheery” today.  As a matter of fact, I haven’t felt too cheery for the past couple of weeks.  For those of you who follow The Anomalous Life religiously (thank you for that), you know that I have been battling with my doctors and my conscience regarding my hypothyroid treatment.  And you also know that my long-time (and very lackadaisical endocrinologist) recently upped my dosage - due to a raised TSH count and little to no reduction in my symptoms.  This resulted in some pretty alarming side effects…not the least of which is the loss of a few too many hairs.

I must first point out that I am quite disappointed in myself for not considering a number of facts before agreeing to this unfortunate decision.  For example, why did I assume that a prescription drug that has resulted in so little improvement over the past five years, would suddenly prove to be a miracle if only more of it were pumped into my system?  And did I not find it odd that he chose to go from 25 to 75 mg…skipping altogether the next highest - and logically more gradual - 50 mg?  And what about past experience?  How had I so easily forgotten the same hair loss side effect when I began taking this drug years ago?  How could I possibly forget the stress it must have caused then, just as it is today?

I know, I know.  You’re all thinking the same thing.  Don’t be so hard on yourself.  We’ve been brought up to trust the medical community.  How could you have known?  But the reality is…medical care bears no resemblance to that which we remember from our childhood.  In many ways, advancements in research and technology have helped to prolong many lives and even eradicate certain diseases.  But patient care of the day to day variety - our general practicioners - those whom we visit for the flu or ear infections or even ongoing care for non-life-threatening conditions such as mine, leaves something to be desired.  When was the last time your doctor truly listened to you?  How long has it been since you felt like anything more than cattle shuffled in and out of an office, with little more than a moment of eye contact…little more than a nanosecond of humanity?  And how many times have your very real symptoms been brushed off as “stress related” or exaggerated?  The Kelsey Seybold’s of the world have packed their doctor’s schedules so tight, aligned themselves so closely with the profit-obsessed insurance companies that the caring, human doctors I know still exist, are reduced to paper and human shufflers.

Today, unfortunately, it is the patient’s responsibility to research and research and research (via the internet and friends and colleagues) to find the few remaining doctors willing and able to cast aside the broken system and take the precious and necessary time with their patients to make educated and clear diagnoses.  When did that happen?  When did it become so difficult?  Why do I have to go the “alternative” route to find what should be mainstream?  Why is it that I know more than my own doctor about what is affecting me, what to test for, and how best to treat it?  We shouldn’t bury our heads in the sand…we should always be our own best advocates…but when did being a patient require us to become master researchers and medical detectives? 

I know there are good doctors out there…believe me, I’m counting on it.  I even know there are good doctors who find themselves caught in the frustrating web of the current system and wish upon wish that they could run an empathetic and responsible practice.  But that doesn’t change the state of care today.  And today is when I need it.  Today is what matters.

There’s a part of me that feels extremely guilty for my current state of mind.  I am alive.  I do not have a life-threatening illness.  I don’t have a sick child.  I have a job and food on the table and a roof over my head.  But I know I must also follow some advice I gave to my sister just the other day.  Hurt is hurt.  Sadness is sadness.  Frustration is frustration…whatever the reason that brought it our way.  We are allowed to have those feelings, without fear of guilt or judgment…but we also can’t wallow in it.  The most difficult moments in our lives can bring about the most beautiful lessons.

I lost some hair.  It stopped, thank goodness, before it became noticeable to anyone other than myself…before it would have severely affected my confidence or daily life decisions.  Because, let’s be honest, we do care about our physical appearance - there’s nothing wrong with that…and when we’re faced with something more than a zit or the gaining of a couple of pounds, it affects us, and THAT. IS. OKAY.

But more importantly, this little incident has helped me to focus in on what matters:  my loved ones - friends and family - wouldn’t have given a shit if I’d lost every last hair on my head, and that’s a really nice thing to be reminded of.  And I’ve now decided to take control of a situation that I left in the hands of someone incompetent for way too long.  This temporary setback will, I hope, soon find me feeling better than I have in years, maybe ever.  And maybe that renewed energy and outlook will allow me to do things and help others in ways I’ve never even imagined.  We’ll see.  Fingers crossed and eyes open.

On a lighter note:  I’m off to Vegas this weekend, where I will party ’til the sun comes up and return (extremely tired) with - I’m sure - some very interesting stories and lots of crazy pictures.  If you’re a fan of Sin City…send me the scoop on your favorite Vegas hot spots and activity ideas and kindly pass on some gambling tips as well…I’m sure I’ll need ‘em!

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