Please excuse the light blogging here this week, but my brain had been not quite as focused as a meth-addled spider monkey trapped in one of those bingo-blower machines.
I was pretty sure what was going on a week ago. Six weeks before that, my endocrinologist told me to schedule my next appointment for four months — unless my thyroid numbers came back higher. They’d been on the High end of Normal for a couple months, so we were keeping a close eye on things. Sure enough, the results came back and the doc said, “See me in two months.”
I made it six weeks before the shaking hands and the short temper and all the rest forced me in for another blood test. I’d already cut my coffee back from three cups to two cups, then cut those two cups down to half-caff. By last week, just that first cup had me wanting to climb the walls. And then the pounds started to melt off even as I was eating more. Anorectics, take note!
But this is an old road, and I had no doubt where it led: Time to drink the radioactive iodine and kill off this damn thyroid. I would have done it five years ago, but no doses were available — and I was at the point then where I needed treatment right the hell now. With thyroid issues, you can take the pills or take the iodine, but you can’t take both. So I took the pills. Not this time, though — this time we’re going for the permanent solution.
But they don’t let just anyone drink radioactive isotopes, no sir. First, the doctor needs to make sure make sure you really need to do it. Which is why yesterday I went through The World’s Most Boring Set of Medical Tests™. I swear I’m not making this up.
Step 1: Don’t eat. Telling someone with a hyperactive thyroid that they can’t eat is like making a junky go cold turkey, only angrier.
Step 2: Take two little capsules filled with a mildly-radioactive form of iodine. About the same amount of radiation as a chest X-ray.
Step 3: Go away for six hours and do nothing.
Step 4: Correction to Step 3. You won’t do nothing as your now-enraged thyroid swells up and makes it impossible to swallow.
Step 5: Consider pitching “The Angry Thyroid” to the producers of The Masters of Horror.
Step 6: The wait is over! Time for the incredibly boring tests!
Step 7: In this first test, you push your neck up against something that looks like the working end of a hobbyist telescope from Soviet Russia, only clunkier. Just when you’ve pushed the top of the iron tube into the most uncomfortable bit of tender skin at the top of your throat, the very friendly tech has you push it up and in a little farther.
Step 8: Sit there like that a while.
Step 9: This is where the tech becomes really impressed by just how much radiation your thyroid managed to soak up in just six hours. “The numbers shot up like a rocket,” she tells you.
Step 10: No you hold your arm in front of the Soviet telescope, so the friendly tech can measure your background radiation, and deduct that from the total.
Step 11: This is where the tech becomes really impressed that your background radiation is lower than that of the Earth, because of just how much radiation your thyroid managed to soak up in just six hours. “1,000 is about normal,” she says. The number on the screen says 800.
Step 12: Now it’s time for the Gamma Camera. This is how they take a picture of your thyroid, using “film” sensitive to the gamma radiation you had for breakfast. The machine looks like a poor man’s MRI. You lie there, perfectly still, while a massive cube of steel floats in front of your face like Judge Reinhold in that episode of Seinfeld. This goes on for ten minutes.
Step 13: Now we do it again, for another ten minutes, from the left!
Step 14: Now we do it again, for another ten minutes, from the right! Did I mention I’m about as twitchy as a meth-addled spider monkey trapped in one of those bingo-blower machines? I did mention that? Good. Because this spider money just had to lie perfectly still, on a plank too uncomfortable for The Gimp, for half an hour.
Step 15: Results! I heard the friendly tech on the phone, telling the doctor that my number — no, I don’t know which number — was 57. “What’s a normal number?” I asked, after she got off the phone. “Normal is between seven and 20.” “Oh. Mine would be higher then.”
The next step is the one I’m doing right now, where I wait for the doc to call to tell me, yes indeed, it’s time to nuke that thyroid.
In the Olden Times, they gave everybody the full dose: Usually about 400 millicuries. That’s enough to make you weak as a kitten and sick as the aforementioned junky for a day or two, but damn sure enough to kill off every last bit of thyroid tissue. Obviously, a dose like that requires a hospital stay.
These days, they only give that much to people with thyroid cancer — when it’s absolutely vital to kill off every last bit of thyroid tissue. That’s not me. No cancer here, thank you very much. My dose will be quite a bit smaller. Probably just 10-20 millicuries. I was expecting to feel a little sick for the first day or two, but apparently not. The tech suggested, since my radioactive self won’t be able to spend much time with the family (and certainly not much time all in a row), that I “go for a hike or cycling or something.”
While I might not hike, that still sounds nicer than the quality time I’d been expecting to spend kneeling in front of the toilet.
The results aren’t immediate, but I suspect once the RAI is actually in my thyroid, then I’ll be able to take the PTU pills to make me feel better, that I can’t take now. After about six weeks, the RAI will reach its maximum effect, and after about six months it’ll all be over. I’ve been waiting almost five years for just this, and can’t wait to get it started.
But the question really bugging me is: How the hell soon can I get back to my got-dam coffee?
Best wishes to you, VP.
“Angry Thyroid?” Is that the successor to Angry Birds?
Seriously, best of luck.
It’s fun, ain’t it?
Thank God for modern medicine, I say.
And I hope you get at least one superpower, Steve.
Jenn
Old family remedy: All the vodka you can drink*
Best wishes
* True story
Oh, I’m there.
My mother’s old family remedy for throat problems was hot water, honey, and lemon, with a generous dollop of whisky.
Hot water, honey, and lemon optional.
Beer is better. More nutrients and it’s a better diuretic.
Remind me to tell you about my friend who got a prescription for a case of beer in an Adventist hospital.
Actually, my grandmother’s doctor prescribed a glass of oatmeal stout daily for her. I believe she was in her 80s at the time, and it was probably to help keep her weight up (she was always a thin little bird of a woman).
May I pray for you? (And your family — bet the “not being around much” for the time being is murder on them, too!) And, let us know when we can start sending coffee “care packages”. Sarah got me hooked on this Portuguese stuff from a company her uncle used to own — excellent!
Been there three times already with Mom… all for thyroid cancer. Not fun, especially when you are as week a newborn kitten and as hungry as a she-wolf with 6 cubs. Good luck and God-Speed!
Take good care, man. We need you.
You can act pitiful and get momma to wait on you…!!!
sending the Graves to the grave!
Instead of wandering around in the woods, why not find a group of hippies, get reeeeal close, and tell them about all the radioactive goodness you were recently exposed to?
I mean, may as well make the best of it.
I wish you all the best with your RAI. I went through the same thing 6 years ago, and finally had my thyroid nuked about a year ago. One note of caution, it will probably not be better in 6 months. It’s been over a year since my doc said my thyroid tissue was completely gone, and I’m still trying to get the right dose of replacement hormone figured out. It sure is better that the crack monkey feeling though! I hope things go smoothly for you (and your crack monkey)
Feel better soon, eh?
Sounds like a tough one, homie. I’m pullin’ for ya over here.
…And I thought it was “gorram coffee?”
You know what would be really cool? A special Hair Of The Dog, featuring Stephen “spider monkey on meth” Green doing a half-hour of Hunter Thompson-style stream of consciousness gonzo commentary.
Or there’s another horror movie: Son of Obamacare: The Thyroid That Wouldn’t Die.
Or you could glow in the dark for a while, get better, then go hug your wife & kid. I like that one.
Godspeed, amigo.
I’m on the other end of that one – an immune system that DOESN’T like my thyroid – or my large intestines or my joints….
Too bad medicine doesn’t have some sort of “thyroid justice” where we share it all around, since you obviously have more than you need, and I don’t have enough. I mean, what are you doing hoarding all those great hormones?!
Prayers for your recovery and return to sanity….and coffee.
I had quite a severe case of Graves’ and it took me something like six years to get it under control…had surgery to remove half my thyroid, took PTU, AND had radioactive iodine in that six year period. BUT I can now tell you that somehow after all that, my thyroid has maintained a *normal* thyroid profile and I have had NO medication, whether thyroid hormone or PTU, in twelve years.
All this to say: I am hoping you will come through this needing no medication whatsoever after your body has made its adjustments to your iodine dosage.
I went through this problem several decades ago with wife number one. Their was no RAI, they removed all of her thyroid…and then the fun began…adjusting the meds to “normal”. There are two kinds of common thyroid meds, one is made in a lab and the other is extracted from cows. People react differently to these and some have (as my wife did) wild dreams. Good luck on your trip.
Many wishes for a speedy and complete recovery.
Best wishes for the speediest recovery.
I had a somewhat milder problem with my parathyroids, Hyperparathyroidism. I got my throat cut about a year ago and had one of them removed. Basically my calcium levels got messed up, to much in the blood not enough in the bone. Took forever to get a diagnosis of the problem since the calcium level would vary but finally the other approximately 21 symptoms got bad enough that they finally spent the money on they serious testing and confirmed the problem. One of the problems was that it made me grouchy, irritable, tired, and hard to get along with. I got very anti-social.
Now a year after the operation I feel a bit better, and my health has improved.. unfortunately I still feel tired, grouchy and anti-social….can’t win, except I can drink more coffee now.
Hope it gets better for you.
Although you said you were not not on your game lately because of the thyroid issue, I must say that your most recent Trifecta piece was among your best. Keep up the great work and get well soon!
Hope you get well soon. I sympathize with the desire for coffee.
Funny story I read on the ANS Nuclear Cafe – some nuclear engineer had to have their thyroid nuked, went it and was released. He tried to go into work, but the nuclear power plant sent him home because he was too radioactive.
Good luck, I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you.
A month after my treatment, I was stopped coming across the border from Canada. They have sensitive sensors at the border considering that I138 has a halflife of only 8 days. My advice, stay out of airports or sensitive military installations.
Sorry it took so long to get back. I am a thyroid cancer survivor. This whole thyroid “thing” is a huge mess. Fortunately, I found a physician who would work with me, and now I don’t take any meds, my remaining thyroid tissue (about 25%) is working fine. The meds were actually damaging my lifestyle and well-being. I am amazed at how primitive the treatment and diagnostics are for these conditions. Been there done that ALL, and don’t want it any more.
Thanks for providing your experience and views on these issues, so the rest of us thyroid sufferers can make informed decisions about our futures.