I think I forgot to mention a few weeks ago I visited a new endocrinologist.  It’s not that Hippie Doctor wasn’t working out, but I was really sick of driving an hour down and an hour back, only to go through the same ups and downs with how good I feel … I can get the same results locally!  So, the search began again.  Daddy stumbled across a doctor who had just moved into our local hospital who is triple board (NERD ALERT) certified in endocrinology.  I was a little worried that he had German and Polish listed as secondary languages.  I love all of the people of the world, but I just can’t understand a lot of them.  My fault – not theirs!

But, I figured, why not? and made the appointment.

Our first visit was pretty uneventful.  I sat down in the waiting room and right away I saw a sign that said “I believe in Miracles”.  That sounds alrighty to me, because I need one … plus I patiently waited for an hour, so I figured if anyone qualified for one, it’s me.

Miracle Man (I’ve never had a self-proclaimed name in my blog before … I kind of like it!) took me off of the meds Hippie Doctor had me on and went on and on about how bad Armour (my old thyroid pills) were and how they aren’t FDA approved, etc. etc.  He also took me off of the Cortisol Hippie Doctor had me on.  Gave me some samples, drew some blood and I was on my way.

The nurse called two days later to inform me that I had Hashimotos.  Um … no kidding.  She said I had toxic levels of T3 due to the Armour (the number was 4.6 for all of you number crunchers … the closer to 1 I get the better I’ll feel)  She recommended I stay on the samples until the next appointment. I was a little excited thinking about the possibility of actually feeling better, and oh, I don’t know, losing weight … and I suppose if we get there I will have to do some dancing around the Pol.

Fast forward to today … the next appointment.

Today they informed me once again that I do, in fact, have Hashimotos.  At this point I am starting to wonder if they’ve written down anything in my chart, because the nurse is sounding like a broken record.  She even has the same inflection with her words as she says them.  It’s fascinating.  Oooh, I know – Let’s give her a name too, just because I am in a bad mood – how about Turntable?  Sounds good to me.

Anywho, Turntable asked if I had any questions, and I almost asked her if she knew if I tested positive for Hashi’s, but I bit my lip and only asked about my sun allergy.  To which she replied I would have to ask the doctor.

Miracle Man came in and he talked a bit about the fact that my anti-bodies are some of the highest he’s seen in his 30 years of practice, so there’s a good chance I will have other auto-immune disorders.  Well, that’s awesome news.  He then told me they will need about 3-4 more monthly visits to lock in my T4 hormone (between .8 – 1.8 is the target) … and that’s only if I don’t get pregnant during that time.  If I do, then we start over.  Then we start over again upon delivery.

It’s about this time that I felt like the walls were closing in and things were feeling a bit more like a prison sentence than a doctor appointment, and at the same time I could hear the collection calls in my head because all of this sounded pretty expensive.   I was able to ask the questions about the sun sensitivity issues I’ve been having, and he told me I had to see an allergist or auto-immune specialist for help with that.  I just don’t understand why he couldn’t run the blood test for the other auto-immune disorders.  It’s not like he wasn’t going to do a blood draw anyway.  But, I didn’t have any fight left in my at that point, so I packed Caterpillar up, let a nurse dig around in my arm trying to find a vein and I left.

I got home to find a nasty message from our credit union about our two-week late car payment … which I had planned on paying as soon as some of Daddy’s invoices from JULY made it into our mailbox.

Today is awesome.