The Synthroid Diaries

Day One: Sigh. This September I turned 42. I also started taking Synthroid. Happy Birthday to me.

And so it begins. In the last month my son has turned three, the non-profit theatre I run closed its most successful season, and I finally got to the Doctor for a physical. Yes, it took three years to get to the Dr. after my son was born. Hey, if you've got kids (or run a non-profit) you understand.

It was a routine physical: blood work, pap smear, breast exam, you know the drill. Only this time I get a call from the Doc who tells me that my "thyroid levels are way low." She tells me this would (at least partially) explain my inability to lose weight. I ask her what's next, she tells me "we give you synthetic thyroid hormone, and then you feel better." Hey - sounds good to me. Strike that. Sounds OKAY to me. (The last thing I ask her is whether I'll have to take this for the rest of my life. She says “yes.”)

It takes me three days to work up the courage to take the pill, which is not surprising when you consider that the first side-effect listed in the instructions is "hair loss" (my husband reassures me that it's temporary - which is all well and good, until it's you who's losing the hair.) The second side-effect listed is irritability, which is not surprising when you consider that the first one is hair loss.

You have to take the pill in the morning, on an empty stomach, one full hour before you eat. It didn't take me long to figure out that that meant I would be up, out of bed, getting my son ready, for one full hour before even a drop of coffee touched my lips - another reason I struggled to come to grips with my new "lifestyle." The instructions are very specific: take one pill with a full glass of water, don't crush it up, don't take it with iron, don't take it with a number of other meds - hey this is the real deal. This isn't a course of antibiotics, or some Vicodin that you get after your root canal, and throw away the leftovers once they expire. This is the kind of pill that you take for the rest of your life, gradually adding to your regimen until you've got a plastic zip-lock baggie full of bottles when you go on vacation, and a little daily pill organizer. The full reality of this hits when I look on the bottle and see that it says "Refill 13 times."

The finality of all of this sends me into a bit of a state of shock. For a brief (one full day) period, I consider going the holistic route, and I read numerous articles online about how people's thyroid's were reinvigorated after using affirmations, or acupuncture, or hypnosis therapy - unlocking their repressed memories of abuse, setting them free, and getting their hormones pumping once again. I can’t help but wonder, “what is MY repressed memory? What might I discover after hours of costly hypnosis, which will no doubt NOT be covered by my insurance?" I consider just not taking the pills, continuing to be overweight and slightly tired – after all, it’s not like I’ve been feeling really depressed or anything. When the Doc asked me to “describe, in general, your overall mood” my answer was “pretty good” and I wasn’t lying. I consider attempting to force myself to reboot, through sheer willpower combined with vigorous exercise and volumes of caffeine.

Eventually I capitulate, resigning myself to so many things in this one action: I am old, my child bearing years are over, I have been hard on my body and now I will pay for it, the stress of my life and of my work have taken their toll. But hey, at least I might finally lose some weight. I cling tightly to my Doc’s words “we give you synthetic thyroid hormone, and then you feel better." I fantasize briefly, that maybe, after a little while, my thyroid will just kick back in again, and I can stop. The similarity of these thoughts to those of a schizophrenic going off their meds does not escape me.

Supposedly it takes a couple of weeks for the drug to take effect, and it’s most surely a placebo effect, but I swear I feel sweaty, high-strung, nervous, and maybe even a little bit… well, better, more positive, excited about what I might accomplish with a normal metabolism. After all, I’ve been keeping up a pretty normal pace over the last three years, raising a toddler, running a theatre, joining Rotary, writing a theatre column, acting as the Board chair of the Michigan Equity Theatre Alliance – sure I’m tired all the time, but I always thought that was just because I was 4o pounds overweight and working 14 hour days. Maybe with this extra boost, I will become a real dynamo: do more networking, get up earlier, travel more, join more clubs, establish an exercise routine, keep my house clean, and maybe, just maybe, shave my legs on a regular basis!

I decide to write this diary, to track my progress and the ups and downs that come with this new adventure. I’ll turn this whole experience into a positive, I think, and maybe I can even help another tired, overweight 42 year old come to grips with what must surely be the first step toward menopause.

We’ll see. For now, I’m watching my hairbrush.