Two Weeks Clean

News for those of you who didn't know: I have Graves Disease!
Even better news: I've been off the drugs for two weeks now!

Yes after two years of attempting to gain the upper hand on my thyroid, I am finally, completely off the meds. So what does this mean? Well, Josh has been extremely kind and helpful in fighting through the nap impulse, listening to my crazy dreams, and tactfully and discreetly handling it if I suddenly feel bad in public. Not gonna lie, the first week was definitely strange, however as week two closes I'm feeling pretty super and surprisingly normal.

So in celebration first, a toast to Josh:

To Josh, who has always been helpful and sweet, but also practical and a bit of a slave driver with the runs and no naps. Cheers to Josh to makes chicken soup, holds hands, and prays. Here's to you love, and many excellent days ahead, now that your wife is no longer a druggie.

Secondly: A look back. This is a three-word-essay I wrote for my senior writing class describing the first year of my diagnosis. Year two was definitely way better.

I am twenty-one. Night touches day. I am running. I am training. This is practice. Soon, I’ll race. I’ve been running. Hours have passed. But I’m running. However, I’m sick. I don’t know. But I’m sick. My heart races. My breath labors. But I run. My thyroid struggles. I don’t worry. I think, “stress”. But I’m sick. I run anyway. Why shouldn’t I? I’m not sick. But I am.

Class is brutal. I am struggling. I can’t focus. My mind screeches. But I’m fine. Of course, fine. But I’m sick. Everything is hard. I am worn. The teachers notice. The students notice. My parents notice. My roommate knows. Thyroid levels rise. My hands shake. I am sick. But I’m fine. I’m not fine. I am scared. I can’t know. Knowing means reality. Ignorance is bliss. This isn’t bliss. But I’m afraid. The appointment’s soon. Maybe it’s nothing. I know differently. I hope blindly. Please be nothing. I am twenty-one.

This can’t be. I sit, stunned. “I’m twenty one.” I whisper quietly. “I’m very sorry.” He states calmly. “We’ll run tests.” I hear him. I don’t listen. I am sick. I am sick. I am sick. I begin panicking. I am sick. I am sick. I am sick. My mind shuts. I can’t think. I am sick. I was fine. I was running. I’m a pre-med. What to do? I can’t do. I am terrified. I hear him. “Maybe it’s cancer. Maybe it’s Graves. We’ll run tests. Please don’t panic.” But I am. I am panicking. I am sick. I am twenty-one. 

Graves is hyperthyroidism. It is chronic. It won’t leave. It is treated. It isn’t cured. It is forever. It doesn’t kill. Just sticks around. Cancer is it. It is big. Cancer kills you. Everything shuts down. You have months. Both are bad. I want to live. Please not Cancer. Please not Graves. Be a mistake. I am fine. No, I’m sick. But how sick? I’m twenty one.

It is Graves. I’m not dying. Not anytime soon. Thank you, God. But there’s more. My hands shake. My heart races. My mind whirls. I can’t sleep. The tremors worsen. What to do? They console me. “Medicine should help.” And if not? What to do? I’m a pre-med. That’s my path. I am lost. Doctors don’t shake. But I shake. The sky falls. I am falling. What to do? I am sick. I am twenty-two.

I’m giving up. I can’t go. Maybe that’s best. Doctors don’t shake. I take exams. I apply around. I interview plenty.  I don’t know. I feel lost. I have options. None I want. Mom saves me. “There are reasons. It will work. Please calm down. Let’s make plans.” We make plans. I feel better. Not great, better. The medicine helps. Helps, not cures. I take exams. I do well. I have options. I’m not panicking. I am afraid. But I’m confident. There are reasons. I buy that. I’m twenty two.

Today is beautiful. The sun shines. The clouds flutter. The hammock rocks. I snuggle deeper. I’m day dreaming. Anything is possible. Maybe cures happen. Maybe tremors stop. Maybe they don’t. Maybe it’s alright. I have dreams. They are new. They are exciting. I’m still scared. But I’m fine. I’ll be fine. I’ll be great. There are reasons. I’m discovering them. It’s an adventure. It’s my life. The sun’s bright. The day’s beautiful. I am loved. I need nothing. Maybe I’ll go. Perhaps I’ll recover. But I’m great. The sun is up. My hands shake. My heart races. My mind whirls. But I’m learning. There are reasons. I am twenty-two. 

Update: DEFINITELY applying to Med School.