irritable

If you’ve only known me in the last 15 years, you’ve only known the low-energy me. You can all roll your eyes as I discuss my stupid adrenals again. I had a tumor and they removed one adrenal, thereby saving my life and dooming me to fatigue.

I’m so tired of being tired.

I saw an endocrinologist last week who thought there was another reason. She thought the adrenal problem was a red herring for a thyroid problem. We were both eager to get the results back and both hoped they would prove thyroid problems so we could fix the problem and the fatigue and all the other side effects.

Did you catch that? We were both hoping my thyroid was failing.

And, it turns out, it’s not. Not yet anyway. Her educated guess was that it might last me another 5 years. And though all thyroid levels were normal, it could in fact be in the process of attacking itself, but hasn’t gotten far enough into the attack yet for it to show. There is an antibody they measure to see if the immune system is attacking itself. My antibody levels were there, but not showing a clear attack. Yet. Cortisone levels were normal (which I already take a twice daily steroid to keep in the normal level.) The only thing awry were my DHEA levels.

Guess what part of the body makes and regulates DHEA? The little fucking adrenals, of course.

So I get to take a DHEA supplement for 4 months and re-test my levels. Let me tell you what is printed right on the bottle (which you can buy over the counter and which some athletes are accused of abusing and is banned in the NCAA)

“Possible side effects include acne, hair loss, hair growth on the face (in women), aggressiveness, irritability, and increased levels of estrogen.”

Let’s just say I’m not thrilled to be taking twice the dose listed on the bottle. (The bottle that threatens death and destruction of you take more than one pill a day – my Dr. wants me to take two.)

I understand that because I am below normal, hopefully I will just be replacing what my missing adrenal was supposed to be producing, therefore not really, you know, growing a beard.

But if the side effects are so weird, shouldn’t I try to go without, you ask? Well, another quick search on Dr. Google (I have a Master’s, PhD and Doctorate in Dr. Google) stated that low DHEA levels in woman is a very, very, very high indicator of breast cancer. Actually, the low DHEA aren’t an indicator, but almost all women who have breast cancer also have low DHEA. So, yeah, a beard and acne it is.

Oh and irritable. I don’t think it’s possible for me to get any more irritable than I am right now.

Of course the sites that sell DHEA tout it’s weight loss abilities (which I could use right about now), it’s fatigue busting abilities (ditto), boosting the immune system (ditto) and fighting brain fog (ditto).

So fasten your seatbelt and keep all hands inside the vehicle. This may be a bumpy ride.

 

 

 

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Fat, blind, or crazy

First things first, if you don’t follow me anywhere else, it is likely Nick is NOT having seizures. Whew.  (Why are you not following me anywhere else? Hmmm?)

For some time now I have been have some anxiety issues. Then about a year ago when there was some possibility that my husband’s cancer was coming back, I sprinkled in a little PTSD to go with my anxiety. Luckily I had recently just started taking anti-anxiety medicine.

I started on a generic and lost. five. pounds! Yay. That officially put me back at my pre-pregnancy weight (though, obviously if you’ve had children, you know that lots was in different places than before. But the scale was at that old familiar number. Sweet!)

Then a few weeks later I noticed that all the photos I was taking were blurry. I couldn’t get anything to come out sharp. And, that’s a side effect of the meds. Grrr. It wasn’t bothering me any other time, but yo, my photos. I needed my photos.

So I switched to a non-generic, slightly different version. That was just over a year ago.

I have gained 25 pounds in that year.

I was only 10 pounds shy of my about-to-deliver-an-8.5-pound-baby weight, and I felt like crap. I finally put two and two together (and ruled out thyroid issues) and changed back to the generic meds. (Yes, at this point we can all conclude that I am vain enough to choose my weight over my photography. But, autofocus was invented for a reason right? Maybe not this reason exactly, but 25 pounds is a lot of reasons.)

Within 10 days, I lost 6 pounds. Without doing anything differently. (It should be noted here that I also had a toe injury which totally whacked my exercise habits and I have been quite sedentary.) (And yes, I just said toe injury with a straight face. My toenail is about to fall off.)

It’s been a couple of weeks and I’m holding steady. I’m adding in exercise starting tomorrow (Ha. Always tomorrow, no? But seriously, yes.)

Before switching back to the generic, I tried weaning to half a dose hoping to eventually wean off completely because I was feeling much better and not sure I really needed to be on it at all. (Which, er, could just mean that the meds are working.)

And, no. Not ready to be off. I was finding myself annoyed with everyone in my family, people I ran into in the street, the radio for having stupid songs on, and NPR for having annoying voices. Um, yeah, NPR doesn’t have annoying voices. That’s when I realized no one was going to win until I was a little more *cough* happy.

Crazy was not an option.

Neither was fat.

So I’m giving a tiny piece of my vision for the chance to feel like myself again.

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my job

I’ve mentioned before that this is my place to cuss and complain. My “mom blog” is much like the baby books I never did for my children. This is my space.

I wrote yesterday on my mom blog about my son being diagnosed with seizures. That will be the place I record details and share stories.

This will be the place I vent. And cry.

I started doing some reading last night. And it scared the shit out of me. I wanted to stop reading and go back to my place of naivety, but that’s not an option.

So I will keep reading and scaring the shit out of myself because that’s my job.

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what she does

During a conversation at Blissdom with a newer friend, I said some less than positive things about myself (I believe it was my double chin, I was criticizing at the moment). When the new friend frowned at my self flagellation, a close friend who has known me for years simply said “That’s what she does.”

It was one of those moments that struck me.

Because it is true.

I don’t want to be that girl. And I’m working on it. I can’t promise that I can change just because I want to change, but I can work on it. And that’s something.

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who/that

I have a new pet peeve (other than snow days – which actually even though I complain, haven’t been too horrible).

People are who; Things are that.

My friend that has a cleaning lady is lucky. No. No. No. My friend who has a cleaning lady is lucky. Yes. Yes. Yes.

I don’t often find people saying who for an inanimate object, but that for people has been jumping out at me lately. Making me twitchy.

We don’t want a twitchy mom at home who is jealous of her friend with a cleaning lady while the children are around. OK?

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Messy

I want a cute messy ponytail.

Why do other people get to have cute messy ponytails and my ponytail just looks – well, messy?

Yes, there are a lot of more important things in the world to worry about, but it’s not asking for too much, is it?

On an unrelated note, I was working out like crazy (for me, anyway) and I felt good. Then I got bronchitis and I stopped working out. Temporarily. While I healed.

I was planning to start again yesterday, now that I was finally caught up with making Halloween costumes, planning school parties and tackling the mile-high mountain of laundry in my basement. But first, a bit of tidying was necessary. Moving some totes around. Sorting a few piles (my husband says I am one pile away from being a hoarder. So not true.)

And I twisted just the wrong way. And my lower back informed me it would be another week before I could think about going to the gym again.

And that bums me out more than my messy ponytail.

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apple is warping my mind

The other day I tried to flick the page of the book I was reading. As in, I was reading a book made of paper and whatever covers of hardback books are made of, and I tried to move the page up with my finger instead of lifting the book with my hands.

I may be an apple addict.

Then, the next night, I was watching a show that was DVR’d. I liked the woman’s shoes and backed it up to see them again. When I got to the right screen, I wanted to pinch the picture with my fingers to enlarge it. Ummm, my TV doesn’t quite work that way. (yet…)

No wonder children try to touch computer screens and wonder why they aren’t all touch screens. I love technology and use it A LOT, but I have to wonder – it only took my brain two years to think apple. My children know nothing else. My question – what will apple think of next?

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