An Open Letter to All the Doctors who Expect Us to Live and Die by the TSH number

Here's a fucking news flash:

THYROID PATIENTS DON'T COME TO YOU COMPLAINING ABOUT THEIR TSH LEVELS.

I TOLD You I was sick!

I used to joke that I would have that put on my tombstone, after I died of my undiagnosed hypothyroidism.

Because I honestly believed that it would have to come to that before ANY of the doctors I'd consulted would actually believe that I was sick.

I'd be on my death bed, bald, 400 lbs, and bloated with fluids, my TSH in the stratosphere, and my T3 and T4 non-existent, and the doctors would finally concede that MAYBE I was onto something, all those years ago, when I kept insisting that SOMETHING WAS WRONG.

My... My... My...

Such a long time it's been.

In the year or so since I have started this blog I have switched to taking Thiroid (an Armour-type desiccated thyroid from Thailand) and supplements with mixed results.

I got a job and ended up putting my health on the back burner, then I lost that job and I am now recommitting to my health, and sharing my journey.

Going forward I will offer more reviews of products and therapies that I have tried, and general information about how things are going.

Peace.