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A Humorous Look at the Bright Side of Cancer... and There Is One

March 30th, 2013

It’s Hard To Be A Woman #8

Crazy Lady

I think my brain is broken.

Maybe I should explain. For the past 20 years, I have taken thyroid medication, with a few “time outs” for when I got all hyped up on the medicine and turned into a crazy woman. Okay, okay, crazier than usual.

I stopped taking anything for my thyroid four years ago when I was diagnosed with Stage III locally-advanced breast cancer.

I started with low doses of Liothyronine and Levothyroxine a few weeks ago after my long break because I was so mind-numbingly cold and the blood test showed that my thyroid function was low.

Since then, I’ve been averaging two to four hours of sleep per night. Last night, I went back to bed, jabbered in Ken’s ear (uncontrollably) until he told me to be quiet, and then passed out for a few more hours.

When I woke up again, Ken wanted to know if I wanted to go to Costco and I went into instant panic mode. You’d think he had just asked me to go commit a murder with him. The thought of going into Costco on a Saturday—especially the day before Easter—with all that thyroid stuff coursing through my bloodstream and making me hyper-stimulated would probably send me to the looney bin. Either that, or end with me on the evening news: “Woman goes berserk in local Costco… babbling something about being high on crack and thyroids and breast cancer… we’re not really sure what the heck she was talking about….”

I’m thinking all this hyperactivity is also causing Tourette Syndrome on top of all my other complaints. I’ve said “hell” twice today and “damn” at least once. I felt like swearing at the top of my lungs all day which is not like me at all. The worst word I usually say is, well, the one I used when I thought I was going to die in the ocean.

Ken asked me if I wanted him to get eggs when he went to Costco (by himself) and I replied, “Yes, no, no, yes,” at least a couple of times. That launched into a long discussion on cheese. “We have Gouda, medium cheddar, and a little bit of Pepper Jack,” I informed him. “Should we wait to buy more? Michael eats too much of it.”

“Mer,” Ken called me by my nickname, “the kid’s got to eat.”

“Yeah, but we have to stop spending so much money, even on groceries. I really, really want to do this kitchen.”

So, now, we’d gone from eggs to cheese to kids starving in their own home to dream kitchens listed on a bucket list.

I have had enough issues resulting from “chemo brain.” Maybe I should just leave the thyroid medication alone once and for all and start wearing a parka instead when I get cold. Either that or move to California where it’s sunny and hot.

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Marie de Haan

Marie de Haan

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