Friday, June 3, 2016

I had been wondering if there was going to be something-through all of this poking and prodding and talking and nodding and mad dashes towards 1:30 appointments and medical bills that grow larger by the minute(no, really. They do.) and frabizillions of blood tests-that something within all of this would remove my sense of humor. 

I found it. 







I'm pretty sure it isn't even anything specifically cancery. I'm going to eliminate this one over-the-counter-that-I-thought-I-was-being-so-proactive-by-asking-the-pharamacist kind of a medication and see if my mood swings North because I tell you what, 














this week has not been pleasant at all. 


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My hair seems to have sucked up more than enough pigment-so that whole 'make it darker just in case it doesn't stick to post surgical hair' thing? Not applicable.  So it's this weird dark color which bothers me not. Not even a little. It's all entertainment to me. 

This is not to say that I am not SERIOUSLY(you heard me) disturbed by that kinda 'it makes you look SO MUCH YOUNGER' sort of a comment. 

'My Dear,' I would have said if I was in my right mind which I clearly wasn't,"Where DID you get the idea I wanted to look younger?"

Pfffft. 



So I think it's fair to say, it's been a rough week. 


On the good side-and we all deserve some good side today, don't we? I had a nice visit with my new best friend the endocrinologist. She smiled at me a lot



The cheese sat alone. 
P couldn't make this appointment. 
Frowny face.* 


I can't find my notebook* with all the official terminology but the thyroid gods have smiled upon me(it seems) and they're not recommending the frightening nuclear thing they drop down your throat(at this time) and generally speaking, with the exception of the endless checking-in I'm going to have to be doing for all of eternity, everything currently looks swell. Yay. 

I was, however, taking the pills wrong. 

I dunno. I thought pills could be friends and peaceably co-exist. And ya know...what is coffee but bean water? How could simple-even weak-bean water screw up fake thyroid? 

Oops. 

So, I'm getting better figuring it out. Kinda sorta. And I think all of this medication twisting, on top of just your basic life drama at the age of 53, kinda sucked the current life force almost all the way outta me. 

But I did about a half a weeks work at the library and today I did three massages and that, my friends, is significant bad assery-even for a person of 52. 

Pffftttttttt. 



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