Blerg.

This is what my morning looks like:



At 26, having to down a fistful of pills every morning is just a tad frightening.

I can blame this recent occurrence on having been diagnosed with hypothyroidism, a genetic disease that is wreaking havoc on my endocrine system, not to mention my metabolism.

I'm getting used to it, kind of. When I started taking those two white, wide pills, though, I had to stay cooped up in my house for an entire week because of the side effects (nausea, among other things). Now, I can leave my house for a few hours. Optimism, right?

I'm just glad I didn't start all of this during the school year. I wouldn't have been able to teach because I would have been in the fetal position under my desk... or in the bathroom hailing the porcelain god.


Why am I going through such rigorous treatment, you ask? Why not just take synthroid and be done with it? Well, given what this disease has helped me do to my body (namely, my weight), I am less likely to become pregnant or carry a child to term if I do. That's right: fat girls tend to have fertility issues. Problem is, hypothyroidism is notorious for helping you put the weight on with ease, and then blocking all attempts to lose it. For my body, it's not as easy as less calories in than out.

And thus, the plethora of pills. Two pills for insulin stabilization (no, I'm not diabetic, but the hypothyroidism thing affects some of the same body functions), a pill for vitamin D depletion, and two pills for vitamin B12 depletion, two pills for calcium, one pill for hormone leveling, one pill to battle the symptoms only, and the list goes on.

Just have to adjust, right? Life goes on, right? I'll be fine.