Dr. Low Expectations

It's not very apt, but I'm renaming the man formerly known as Dr. Dickhead. His new name is Dr. Low Expectations--because he was so bad over the weekend, and totally improved his demeanor and candor and, well, his news! My life's motto is "low expectations are the key to happiness." In this case, I wish I had not had such low expectations as I did last Friday, when I honestly thought I might die or at least have a horrible life-threatening autoimmune disorder. If he'd told me last Friday that my thyroid was screwed and I would have to get tested every week and have thyroid surgery and be on high doses of steroids for 3 months, I would have thought that was pretty bad. But when you prepare someone for lupus or death, it doesn't sound so bad! Today he was all smiles and laughs and jokes and good news, so now I admit that I respect and appreciate him. He seems to have taken a special interest in me as a freak case of an extremely rare and little-documented side effect of a medication, and I will take it!

The end of the story on the thyroid is that yes, the CT scan did screw my thyroid, but it was probably the only option they had to see what was going on. The most likely scenario at that time was a pulmonary embolism, and the CT scan was the only way to rule that in or out. Now my thyroid may start going out of control but frankly I had already decided to have surgery after I was done breastfeeding. Now I might be able to have it a little sooner, which would be fine too. And then I won't ever have to worry about these anti-thyroid drugs again. Hooray!