Most people want to be it. A few crazy souls do everything they can NOT to be it. I never expected it to be a word that brought tears to my eyes and a lump to my throat.
My long-awaited endocrinologist appointment had come and gone. She was caring and attentive, and I got through my blood work with nary a tear. (Just go for the back of my hand….see those nice veins?) Then I waited for the results to see if I had Hashimoto’s disease: a thyroid condition that runs in my family, and that I was sure was the reason for my myriad of annoying symptoms.
Weight gain despite healthy habits. Increasing fatigue. Shortened monthly cycles. Depression. Brain fog. Feeling cold all the time. A couple of “episodes” that I’m pretty sure were hot flashes. (At 35, hello!!!) Etc.
I almost forgot about the results coming from the lab. We were getting close to moving….dangerously close. It was two days before our proposed closing date, and we still didn’t have 100% confirmation. The owner of the home we were buying wouldn’t grant us early entry to start preparing the home for us, and it was stressing me out, big time.
Then I opened that piece of mail, and the word “normal,” highlighted on the first page, caught in my throat as I almost read it out loud. I walked around in a bit of a daze, choking back sobs and blinking away tears. I felt my body had betrayed me yet again. If you’re going to have all these issues, can’t you at least have a corresponding illness that can be rectified with a pill? Does it have to always be a big, infuriating, lousy, stupid question mark?
I didn’t know what to do with myself, or my non-diagnosis. After a couple of hours, I got a phone call. Closing confirmed for day after tomorrow! We were moving, and the next few days were an exhausting whirlwind. That’s a post all it’s own, and maybe I’ll get to it someday.
So here we are, in our new home. Christmas was just five days after the move. Cleaning, unpacking, painting. New Year’s. More painting, ripping up carpet. In the moments between, that word “normal” haunts my thoughts. What now?
I said months ago that “my God’s got this.” He still does, I remind myself wearily. I have to believe that, because His love for me is evident in every other area of my life. There’s not a chance that He would so lovingly care for my home, my children, my spouse, his job, my extended family, and not care for my health, both mental and physical. He cares. So. much.
No New Year’s resolutions for me. The one big thing I would like to change, I have no control over. I have faith in my Healer, whether it comes miraculously and instantly, or through my doctor, more testing, and medication. It’s all good. (Please tell me it is!)