That’s Not Something You Hear Every Day #24

When I take thyroid medication, sometimes crazy things happen. I even wrote about this phenomenon in my book:

A young man came in and introduced himself as Dr. West. “I’m the anesthesiologist. Maria Ann de Haan?” He looked down at his chart.
“Yep, that’s me.”
“Is your date of birth 1/9/1967?”
Whenever a medical professional asks that, I always want to say, “Why? Are you going to send me a birthday card?” I never do, though, because I know it’s their job to make sure that they’re not performing an appendectomy on a liver or perform a hysterectomy on a man.
I simply nodded.
“Are you having a venous-access system implanted?”
I couldn’t keep my mouth shut on that one. Several times over the past two years—before my cancer diagnosis—my thyroid had gone into hyper-drive (most likely due to stress according to the naturopath), and chose to do so again. As a result, my mind kept racing, with my mouth following close behind. “I don’t know. Dr. Williamson told me it used to be called a portacath, after the name of the company that originally… uh… or did it used to be called a venous-something-something.…” My voice trailed off.
Dr. West probably thought to himself, “Not only does this chick make us come in early before regular hours, but she’s secretly on crack. She told us she was taking all of those vitamins, but we know the real story.”
I bit my lip and longed for duct tape to keep the words from spilling out of my mouth.
Dr. West continued, “The venous access system. For this surgery, do you have a strong preference for whether you are put under or just under heavy sedation?”
I practically jumped out of my puffy tent. “Put me under! Way under! I don’t want to feel a thing!” I should have added, “Take my thyroid while you’re at it. It’s making me a raving lunatic.”

Back in March, the same thing happened. Not the puffy tent, not the surgery, but the craziness. You can read all about my humiliation here.
Yesterday, I started taking thyroid medication again—albeit, a lower dose—because I’m freezing cold all the time. I guess I’m just a glutton for punishment.

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