And One Day It Hits You

It's six months today that I was hit with a pain that basically landed me in a fetal position, trying desperately to tell my husband to find me Tylenol, Advil, ice, the heating pad, anything that might help.  The pain started in the right side of my neck as I was talking to my cousin on the phone.  I'd had similar pain before.  The doctor and I had pretty much agreed, though it was basically a default diagnosis, that I had a gland in that area that was causing me trouble.  Lately, however, I had been having more pain and the complexion of that pain was changing.  On New Year's Day of this year, I got the full brunt of it.


The pain quickly became severe, encompassed my right ear, the front of my neck all the way to the other (my left) side, my left ear, and radiated into my chest and back.  My face felt hot, and my neck was bright red.  I rode it out and 45 minutes later it was gone...for then.  I could write a book about the progression of symptoms that kept me pretty much confined to my husband's recliner for the next two weeks until I was able to talk my doctor into a prescription for percocet which barely took the edge of the pain.  Thus started a round of doctors, tests, blood work, etc with an ultimate diagnosis of Graves Disease, and lots of pain.    


I'm now under the care of a Nurse Practitioner in what is considered a good Thyroid-centered practice, but I'm still not well, and I never will be.  Today, as I sit and write this, I'm distracted by the discomfort right in the area of my thyroid.  Pretend someone is pushing a baseball into the middle of your throat.  That would come close.  The last six months has been a roller coaster of medications, suggestions of radiation treatments to shrink my thyroid, surgery to remove it, more and less pain, lots of needle sticks for blood work, a pile of lab bills, a bunch of prescriptions filled.  It goes on and goes on.


And one day it hits you.  You aren't getting well.  Graves Disease does not go away.  It is never cured - not with medication, not with RAI, not with surgery.  It is an autoimmune disease that will always need treatment and one that the patient (in this case, I) has to live life around.  Somehow, I managed to get through the semester carrying a full load of courses online and face-to-face.  I took pain killers around my class schedule; my husband drove me to and from school and carried my books to classes, while I struggled to make it the 140 feet from the car to the classroom.  I often had to stop and rest on my grandfather's cane, which I took from the place I lovingly keep it as a reminder of him.  His love helped me through childhood.  His cane is what I lean on now.  


I have more questions than answers about Graves Disease.  Every forum I'm a part of gives me more information that reminds me that this disease is different from person to person.  The answer for one is the problem for the next person.  I do know that from here on in, I will have to live my life around this disease.  There will be many canceled plans, days spent in front of the TV screen or in the hammock with a book, times my husband will have to pick up the slack with everything from laundry to errand-running.  


I do complain, but my complaints are not about the disease.  At my age, my mother had colon cancer, surgery, and weekly chemotherapy, followed by a strangulated intestine that almost resulted in her death from gangrene.  My disease, if managed properly, is not fatal.  What is difficult for me to live with is the realization that everything will be different from now on, and I have little - perhaps no - control over any of it.  


Yes, one day it just hits you.