Archive | August, 2008

How To Stop Taking Thyriod Meds And Feel Like Shite

When the doctor first told me I was going to have to take a tiny pill every morning for the rest of my life, I didn’t really take it that seriously.  I mean, come on, I have been on the birth control pill and forgotten to take it for several days, and nine months later I was not a mommy.  Of course, having undiagnosed Hashimotos disease causes infertility, so my chances at pregnancy were thin at best, but that’s not the point.  I have to force myself to take my daily vitamins.  Is this thyroid pill thing really all that serious?

Let’s not discuss how the symptoms first knocked me on my ass and made me wonder if I was slowly going mad, some retribution for all the fun partying and men I enjoyed during my fun irresponsible single years.   The exhaustion from a dying thyroid alone made me feel like I’d been hit by a freight train.  Sometimes I forget how far I’ve come in the last five years.

Until I run out of thyroid pills.

Kaiser seems to have issues with getting Armour Thyroid, which is manufactured in Saint Louis.  Two weeks ago,  upon the swallowing my last pill, I realize Kaiser hasn’t mailed my next three month supply. Hmmmmm.  I was now out of pills.  I am the great procrastinator at tasks that require long waits, or waiting in line, the drilling of my teeth, figuring calculus problems, watching political speeches and washing my car.  I just figured I’d eventually get around to stopping by Kaiser to explore the reason why my refill prescription had gone the way of bell bottom pants.  Forest Pharmaceuticals, the manufacturer of Armour probably creates my meds in China, where it ships it to Mexico to be packaged and shipped to a warehouse in Canada, before they are shipped to Kaiser to be shipped to me.   Where is that EASY button when you need it?

One day turned to two, then three and the next thing I know I’ve not swallowed an Armour tablet in a week.  By last Monday my voice was cracking and a slight sore throat was forming.  But I assured myself that all was fine and I’d get around to Kaiser and my meds…. some day… soon.

Suddenly sleep seemed like my new best friend and 12 hours of the sweet slumber is not enough, and my throat is beginning to bother me to the point where I cannot swallow and I FINALLY began thinking, hmmmmm I guess I’d better get out a good book and travel to Kaiser…

But before I can get there, the young man who notices everything, except his dirty clothes on the floor decides he needs to have a little talk with me.

“Mom, you’ve been sleeping a lot…”

(This from a boy who lives for sleep)

“I know … I need to go pick up my meds…”

“You ARE doing that TODAY aren’t you?”

I guess there’s just no motivation like a nagging teenager to kick my butt into gear.  Because trust me on this, when I say that my son can nag the fur off a dog.  So … to avoid hearing him ask me “have you picked up your meds?” forty thousand more times, I drove to Kaiser and forced them to give me a new supply.  There was no way I was coming back home without those pills.   I even stopped and took two pills at the water fountain by the pharmacy.  The water felt like oatmeal going down my throat.  For a minute I thought I was going to have to put the pills under my tongue and let them dissolve, but they finally cooperated and went sweetly into my stomach.

Magically by the next day, the sore throat disappears and my energy begins to return, but Brian’s nagging remains.

“Mom, you’re not going to let your pills run out again are you?”

It seems he is channeling my mother.  I thought about his question, because up to that moment I realized I had been living within a belief that my thyroid would get better and I could stop the pills … some day.

“Mom?”

“No Brian.  I need to be able to speak to nag you about school homework, dirty clothes, wet towels, using soap, brushing your teeth, feeding the pets, and taking out garbage, so I will not let the pills run out EVER AGAIN.”

“Good.”

Grrrrrrrr …. growing up is tough for this parent.

Until next time-

C

http://www.aweekinthelifeofaredhead.com

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How Men Get Lost, Even At Age 14

It was said that the last we saw our three boys, they were heading down the hill to the creek.

As the boys walk off, I whisper to Heather, the mother of the boy’s leader, “Do you think between the three of them we have one complete brain?”

It would be three hours before boy contact was regained.

The work phone rings.

“Good afternoon, Forward Motion Studios

“Mrs. Montgomery?”

“Yes?”

“Your son Jake and his friends are at my home and would like to talk with you…”

“What?  Jake?”

“Hi Mom.  We got lost.”

“Where are you?”

“I don’t know.”

It would seem Jake didn’t know his home address either.  It’s amazing how many times we as parents go over these little important details, but it doesn’t seem to actually get past their cute hair follicles and sink into the cranium. After a brief conversation with this woman, who offers to drive the boys home, Heather discovers the boys followed the creek at the bottom of Heather’s property, over the hill, then down into the next valley floor.  Quite a hike for boys who are too tired to feed their pets or do chores.

Frankly I was more impressed than annoyed.

They did forget water, a cell phone or to let us know they were planning such an adventure.  But if I know boys, they probably began to wander and continued wandering until they actually looked up and thought, “Wow, I’m hungry … where’s home?”  Rather than walk back, because they’ve seen that route, they attempted a new one and ended up in a subdivision neither Heather or I knew existed.

“No, it’s sweet of you to offer to drive them back, but I’ll be right there.” Heather sighs.

She hangs up the phone and looks at me.

I comment, “Hmm well I guess three boys doesn’t make a brain after all.”

When they boys return they look a bit exhausted, which is a thrill for any parent who is at the end of the summer with their kids.  We live to wear our children out every day so they will pass out early and we can stop hearing “Mom?” or “Dad” for the 40,000 time.

The funny thing is they are actually excited and want to tell us every detail of their adventure.  I think they are shocked that no one is yelling at them.  I am just thinking of a line from Peter Pan:

“I’m a Lost Boy, I’m a Lost Boy! I’m a real Lost Boy!”

Really ladies, carry a map, have a GPS because men start young at getting lost and not stopping to ask for directions.

Until next time-

C

http://www.aweekinthelifeofaredhead.com

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