Hashimoto's |
this blood test here— she points and I blink at an unusual acronym, more ready to sleep than to learn a new series of tests, or a new medication designed to replace a hormone which I no longer make. this proves it. your body’s breaking down, she tells me, and I wonder if she’s happy now that she’s been proven right. she’s suspected Hashimoto’s since I first met her, checking my thyroid function with a keen and eager eye— a vulture, a raven of ill omen. autoimmune diseases travel in packs, you know, she says, like sharks, sensing weakness from oceans away— then going for your organs, one autoimmune at a time, and I’m so tired, knowing my next step is research into something I’ve barely heard of, and never associated with myself. I’ve ridden that ride before. type one diabetes is a perfect companion to Hashimoto’s, she says, little armies of overactive soldiers, attacking your thyroid with enthusiasm—as excited as when they attack your pancreas, and I wonder whether it’s appropriate to be proud of my immune system, which works to such broad effect. all it lacks is precision. no way to stop it, she says, and I shake her hand and thank her for this new prescription, this new obsession, this new series of questions to ask random strangers online who will welcome me to their ranks, and sorrow with me for my new diagnosis. line count: 49 Prompt for: Jan 26, 2016 ▼ |