In March of last year, so almost a year ago, I went to the doctor for the first time since my arrival in Australia.
It was time to check up on my blood sugar, since my glucometre had broken shortly after I arrived.
It turned out that my blood sugar was fine. However, since I was there, the doctor ordered a whole panel of blood tests. Everything was delightfully normal, except…my thyroid hormone was frighteningly high! (Or rather, my TSH was nonexistent, for those of you who know what I am talking about.)
After chatting with the doctor – me very reluctant to mess with what was working, and the doctor very concerned about the long term health effects of hyperthyroidism, I went home and did some research.
Hmmm. My teeth have been crumbling for some time, and that’s one of the (minor) symptoms of over-medication with thyroid hormone. A number of other symptoms were also there. I agreed to try reducing my dose by one grain. The first three months were miserable, but instead of getting worse, at the half-way point, I started to feel better.
Clearly the doctor was on to something.
When I had been feeling better for about two weeks, I made an appointment to get my blood tested again. Still far too high. Worried, I agreed to try again. Same result. Misery for three months, and then back to normal. Testing revealed that the dose was still too high.
Hunh, interesting. I am currently down from 7 grains to three and feeling fine again. Time to get another blood test done.
It appears that one of the side effects of working with Dr. Sickels and following the Wahls protocol is that my thyroid has healed. I won’t know for another six months or so how completely it has healed, because reducing my dose suddenly could be catastrophic, but I am hopeful at this point that I may be finished with my last prescription! (I was declared “cured” of seizure disorder in 2002, of diabetes in 2012, and now maybe of hypothyroidism.)
Now to the point of this post’s title.
One side effect of the reducing thyroid hormone has been weight gain in addition to the weight I had gained when we moved ‘down the hill’ to within a block of the best stop and the greengrocer. Of course. That was to be expected. It was only about 20 pounds. My clothes fit differently, but I didn’t change clothing sizes. (Partly because I expected that moment – unintentional weight loss can be expected to be followed by unintentional weight gain – and I always chose very forgiving clothes.) But I didn’t want that last five pounds that would doom me to more clothes shopping.
So, I started working a bit harder at using up energy.
Instead of going to the nearest bus stop, I went to the next stop walking as fast as I could. If I had the time, I kept walking to the next, and the nest bus stop. It was going great! I felt stronger and fitter and more energetic as the days and weeks passed. I was wonderful.
Then, in August, it all came crashing down when I was momentarily distracted and tripped over a rough spot in the pavement at full speed. I came down hard and broke both an arm and a leg. The first serious break or injury of any kind in my life. (Being a physical coward has it’s benefits.)
No more speed walking for me for a while! Actually, for a little while, there was no more walking for me at all. I spent four days in hospital before I was allowed to get out of bed. I gradually learned to get around and get my chores done with one arm and one leg. That was fortunate, because a few days after my accident Rodney (who had been carrying the load at home in addition to cooking meals and bringing them to me) ended up in the hospital with heart trouble!
As an aside, I came to Australia planning to get a job immediately. I discovered, however, that it had been determined that Rodney needs a full-time carer. That would be…me! After a year and a half, I had begin to think that Rod was really OK, and would be fine of I got a job, at least part time. Maybe not, though. It feels weird and wrong not to be working, but as the family keep telling me, I *am* working. I’m educating Jack and caring for Rod. Clearly he does still need me to do that.
Anyway, I hobbled around looking very silly with bone supports on alternate arm and leg. When it came time to remove the casts, I thought my healing was pretty much done. Then they were actually removed and I learned that my healing was just beginning. It took me a couple of months to be able to leave the cane home, and my leg is still a bit stiff even six months later. My arm took longer and may well never have its full range of motion back, but I can do everything I need or want to.
I was completely amazed when four days in hospital, medications, equipment, physiotherapy, and everything else cost me less than $50! I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, but that was it. Amazing.
Soon after I could start to hobble around and get to town, I started brewing bone knitting herbal infusions, and I will continue drinking those until January 2018, since that’s how long it takes for bone to completely heal. Other than that, or if you were to notice that I hold my arm at an odd angle to reach things, you would never know I had broken myself t nearly 60.
It was a very interesting experience. Until then, I had no real idea how knitting and recuperation worked, and I had no idea what I was capable of until it happened. I don’t regret it, though I am in no hurry to repeat it. (My back still hurts sometimes from the strain and contortion I had to use to get in and out of bed, to put on my own socks, and all those other little tasks you don’t eve think about until you have to.)
That may be the single most interesting experience I’ve had personally since arrival and that could have happened anywhere.