Close your eyes.
Now imagine you've just completed a hard workout. On an empty stomach. You're tired, and you're hungry. And a little weak. Imagine afterward you drank a full pot of Starbuck's coffee, fully leaded. How do you feel? Not so good . . .
That's how I described how I feel to my endocrinologist when I saw him this morning. Simply put, I told him "I've got the shakes." What started out as a fine hand tremor is now permeating my entire body from my head to my legs. My heartbeat is also off a bit. Every couple of minutes it stalls out and the next beat is hard. Not anywhere near where it has been in the past. But it is noticeable.
Inhale.
Propranalol. Of course this fine medicine worked wonders to mitigate those issues in the past. But recall that after taking it for so long it slowed my heartbeat down too much and I got dizzy. Often. And often in front of people. People I work with. I wanted to hide.
"Do I go back on it?" I asked my doctor. In a word--"yes." I didn't say anything, simply "hmmmmmmmmm."
He continued ". . . a lower dosage than the lowest dose I took before, twice daily, yes there is some risk but we'll watch you closely and monitor your heart beat. But the lower dose should take the edge off the tremors, you should do fine." Reassured, out the door I went and I haven't stopped thinking about it since. Back to work--edgy, shaky--yet very thankful it's not worse despite not feeling completely well.
Exhale
The workplace. It's an interesting place. In many respects you're on stage, there to perform. Paid to do so. I have a close theater friend. He loves what he does (on the side). He tells me "it doesn't seem like work." Nor does my job. In fact I love what I do. But hiding the emotional baggage from the outside world caused by Graves Disease IS hard work indeed. I tiptoe my way into a discussion and the eyes looking back at me, from very intelligent people, people I call friends, are often blank. They, too, don't always know how to respond. It's a tricky dance, the workplace stage. I don't for one minute blame them. You shouldn't either. Like any dance, someone has to lead. And that someone, is me. I don't want to hide any more.
Repeat
It's Halloween tonight. So . . . here's a question for you. No tricks. Except that I'm answering my question with another question . . .
Q: Can you spot any similarity, if not irony, between Halloween and me?
A: Who's wearing the mask? Those outside the door, or the woman inside?
Did you get it right? Good for you! I'll leave you with this thought . . .
The mask I wear,
One day I swear,
The day will come,
It, I will shun.
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