Yesterday I received confirmation that I was not going bald. This has been a long-term fear of mine. In fact, perhaps my best friends growing up remember my incessant worrying over the matter. I think Christine snapped at me once. My neuroses was and still is fairly annoying. She was actually quite patient with me, actually, especially when I went through my "I'm going to die of melanoma cancer" phase. I'm pretty sure she said, "Probably! But not today." Then we walked to Wegmans and stole donuts. But that's a story for another day...
Both of my best friends had beautiful, long, straight hair. Lydia's was shiny and healthy looking EVEN THOUGH SHE PUT SUN-IN in it for I don't know how many years. I can't even highlight my hair without making it brittle and untouchable.
I had frizzy, half curly, half wavy hair. Still do. I passionately detested the unruly mop upon my head. It does seem kinda paradoxical that I was so highly concerned about losing it. I really really was, though. Everytime I pulled a fistful of hair from my brush, I was sure it was the beginning of the end. I read about alopecia and other hair loss disorders. I should've been worrying about my math grade.
You will be shocked to find out that my hypochondric (is that a word?) paranoias have become a reality. For the past two months, I have lost at least 1/3 of my hair. My surgeon and my primary physician said it was related to stress. I said, I don't feel that stressed out. They said, you might not FEEL stressed out, but you are. I said, really is that so. They said yes.
They were full of doo-doo.
My thyroid has gone kerplooey. It is hyper. I had a rebellious gallbladder, and now I have a hyper thyroid. Next thing you know, my appendix will want to fly south for the winter. My eyes might decide to become lazy. GOD FORBID my digestive system goes rogue.
Having a hyperactive thyroid is like being on speed. You can't see me, but I am typing like Clark Kent would if he wasn't pretending to be human. I have lost five pounds in a week WITHOUT diet or exercise. My hair is falling out. It continues to fall out. My heart beats fast. I shake a lot. I look pretty awful and appear more neurotic than ever. I don't sleep, I don't feel hungry, and I don't want to do anything although I feel jittery and uneasy about not doing anything. What a conundrum.
Now when I take the medicine to fix myself, I will probably gain back a lot of the weight I lost when I was not dieting or exercising. This is bad news. I like being thinner. I like that I can fit into a dress I wore my second year of college. I like that my son Ben says, "You're a skinny lady." Heck, I could wear a wig and deal with the insomnia if it meant being thin without diet or exercise. So there's the question.... chubby or bald and crazy?
My brother's imaginary childhood friend Cory tells me to mull it over a bit. Josh, you'd be surprised to know that that kid just doesn't age.
1 comment:
I vote bald and crazy. This is basically my state of being while on prednisone. Prednisone is apparently the medical world's solution to the mass of uncompleted chores and projects that riddle you with guilt after a prolonged medical recovery.
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