Turbocharged!
I don't really like to go on about medical stuff, cross-cultural gynecology aside, both because it's really the very definition of private, and because my mother tends to leave embarrassing comments. But I can't refrain from this one.
My circadian rhythms have always been off. Way, way off. Stay-up-til-2-not-really-awake-until-noon off.
This has gradually been getting worse as I get older, to the point where I'm half-asleep all day at work and half-awake when I'm trying to sleep. It's been a gradual creep, taking the goalposts of normality along with it, so I'll admit I haven't really thought of it as a medical problem.
Several months ago, some routine bloodwork came back a bit abnormal, and stayed a bit abnormal through repeated follow-up tests. The docs started with the scary stuff (HIV? No.) and moved down the list (Lupus? Maybe...maybe...mmm, no, probably not.), doing lots of tests that would have cost a fortune in the U.S. but haven't yet cracked $100 here, ruling things out along the way. My odd bloodwork, suggesting as it did that my body was attacking itself, remained a mystery. Since nothing was really off, I was prepared to conclude it was some mixture of stress and the physical expression of my usual dysphoric self, and let it go.
But last week, a doc listened to my constellation of symptoms, informed me that women in my age group often suffer post-viral autoimmune attacks on their thyroid, and put me on a low dose of thyroid hormone, even though my thyroid tests were within the normal range (to be fair: barely within).
Several days later, all I have to say is: wow. No, really: wow. I get sleepy at 10. I have the sort of deep, restorative sleep I totally forgot sleep is supposed to be like. I wake up with energy. Coffee is almost superfluous. Yesterday, I led K on a several-mile hike through the city during the heat of the day. We came home and he collapsed on the sofa; I caught up on a year's worth of hand-wash laundry. This morning, he lazed around and read while I did a three-hour workout.
Sounds a tad in the manic range, you say? Hey. I deserve a little mania. I mean, sure, this will be an ongoing self-experiment, and we won't know for several weeks whether this addresses the labwork abnormalities, and I'm pretty certain the dose will need to be adjusted downward (er - though I'm sure it can wait until after I lose 15 pounds or so), but still: so this is what normal feels like, eh?
Not bad. Not bad at all.
My circadian rhythms have always been off. Way, way off. Stay-up-til-2-not-really-awake-until-noon off.
This has gradually been getting worse as I get older, to the point where I'm half-asleep all day at work and half-awake when I'm trying to sleep. It's been a gradual creep, taking the goalposts of normality along with it, so I'll admit I haven't really thought of it as a medical problem.
Several months ago, some routine bloodwork came back a bit abnormal, and stayed a bit abnormal through repeated follow-up tests. The docs started with the scary stuff (HIV? No.) and moved down the list (Lupus? Maybe...maybe...mmm, no, probably not.), doing lots of tests that would have cost a fortune in the U.S. but haven't yet cracked $100 here, ruling things out along the way. My odd bloodwork, suggesting as it did that my body was attacking itself, remained a mystery. Since nothing was really off, I was prepared to conclude it was some mixture of stress and the physical expression of my usual dysphoric self, and let it go.
But last week, a doc listened to my constellation of symptoms, informed me that women in my age group often suffer post-viral autoimmune attacks on their thyroid, and put me on a low dose of thyroid hormone, even though my thyroid tests were within the normal range (to be fair: barely within).
Several days later, all I have to say is: wow. No, really: wow. I get sleepy at 10. I have the sort of deep, restorative sleep I totally forgot sleep is supposed to be like. I wake up with energy. Coffee is almost superfluous. Yesterday, I led K on a several-mile hike through the city during the heat of the day. We came home and he collapsed on the sofa; I caught up on a year's worth of hand-wash laundry. This morning, he lazed around and read while I did a three-hour workout.
Sounds a tad in the manic range, you say? Hey. I deserve a little mania. I mean, sure, this will be an ongoing self-experiment, and we won't know for several weeks whether this addresses the labwork abnormalities, and I'm pretty certain the dose will need to be adjusted downward (er - though I'm sure it can wait until after I lose 15 pounds or so), but still: so this is what normal feels like, eh?
Not bad. Not bad at all.
2 Comments:
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Emily said...
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- 10:43 AM
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Anonymous said...
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- 4:05 PM
Post a CommentWhen I took antidepressants for a couple of years a while ago, I was amazed by how much they helped. I dropped 25 pounds in just a few months, I had energy again, and stuff that would have left me sobbing before the pills was just greeted with a "meh!"
I eventually stopped the SSRIs because we were thinking about trying to get me pregnant, but not before they'd enabled me to start becoming physically active again. (I swear, wrecking my knee in May of 2000 was one of the best things that have ever happened to me. All those months and months in rehab forced me to get some exercise.)
It's astonishing how much the right chemicals washing around in one's body can help one's outlook. Best of luck getting the levels of the thyroid hormone right; you must be very relieved.
In re Eritrea: I had a student from there, a really lovely woman named Helen. I've liked all the East African people I've met; I hope this change happens and works out well for you.
Btw, many, many thanks for the package -- it arrived without incident and the onesies are ridiculously cute. Now to pop out someone who can wear them...
No, that's not what normal feels like. That's what 'manic' feels like. but, enjoy.
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