Dear Thyroid, I know that it’s been a long time… an entire year, in fact. But I needed to drop you a line (or twelve) to get some things off my chest… or neck, as the case may be. “They” say that forgiveness is to set a prisoner free… and to find out that the prisoner is yourself. So let my motives be clear from the beginning, Dear Thyroid. When you first got sick, you really messed up my life. Perhaps you didn’t notice, since you were so busy with activities of your own, but while you were intent on fighting yourself, you were causing distress other places aside from your own backyard. Your ridiculous behavior was repeatedly triggering a previously unknown genetic condition that had successfully remained under wraps until you reared your ugly head. Now, every time you felt it necessary to get my immune system all worked up over nothing, I had to deal with debilitating vertigo and paralysis on my left side! How could you have done this to me, Thyroid? Do you realize how many doctors I saw in those days? I met with 3 neurologists, 2 family physicians, 2 ENTs, a chiropractor, and as a last resort, a psychiatrist! You were so sneaky, Thyroid. None of these doctors had a clue what was going on. At first they showed great concern at my symptoms, which were bizarre and interesting. But as time passed and I “failed” all their tests, do you know what happened? Their interest turned to pity. They feared I was crazy! I remember way back when… I always had my suspicions about you. My waking temperature had been mysteriously low for years and my hair, brittle. I felt down in the dumps for no apparent reason and I bounced between chubby and scrawny continually. I knew something was up. But oh, how you hid the truth. You managed to narrowly avoid the limits to their tests, proving my incompetence. Foul Thyroid, you were deceptive! Years passed and I resigned myself to feeling badly. I didn’t talk about my illness anymore because the opinions of the doctors, bound by their rules and their numbers, seemed to have spread to even the best of my friends and family. I know you can’t understand how it hurt, Dear Thyroid, but it did. It was the worst pain imaginable to have my sanity called into question while almost constantly dealing with very real physical struggles. There was no sympathy. No help. No understanding for me. Spiteful Thyroid, you were merciless. When you finally pulled out all the stops and grew Cancer, I’m sure you thought you would do me in. I’m sure you thought you had the last word. I’m sure you must have laughed as my voice crackled when I sang. I’m sure you must have chuckled silently to your vindictive self as I choked on my water. I’m sure you must have smiled smugly as I learned to live with the chronic sore throats and neck cramps and annoying cough. Well… while you were busy about cultivating destruction, things were changing. My husband believed me. He saw my pain and refused to accept it. Paralysis and vertigo had become a normal part of everyday life for me. He said we could not settle for a life like that and that we would not stop looking until we found a doctor competent and compassionate enough to fix me or at least name what it was that was breaking me down. We met with a new neurologist. He said I might be crazy. That is always a possibility. But that it was his job to rule out everything else first. Oh, Sly Thyroid, your days of hiding were about to be uncovered! It was a CT Angiogram. I remember getting the phone call from my neurologist. “There were no blockages or any other physical cause for your paralysis. We believe you have a genetic condition called familial hemiplegic migraine. It’s a calcium channel mutation. And there’s one more thing… We found some tumors…” My neurologist would later tell me I was the only patient he’s ever had who has thanked him for telling me I had cancer! But in that moment, Thyroid, I knew your days were numbered. You tried playing the elusive card once more as my biopsies came back “indeterminate.” But all the hard work you had done and the symptoms it produced could no longer be overlooked. You had to come out. The surgery came and went. It was scary– I won’t lie. But I did it. When the pathology report came back, I cried. Nobody wants to hear they have Cancer. I tried not to think about it for what seemed like a very long time. But you left me reminders that I couldn’t see past. I have always loved singing. I learned to play guitar when I was 14 so I could accompany myself. I took voice lessons and sang at weddings and banquets and churches. Music was a way to let what was inside myself out. The surgery took that from me. You took that from me, Thyroid. My left vocal cord was paralyzed. At first my voice was barely a whisper. For the most part, it’s normal now, a year later, although I do struggle at times with hoarseness or choking. But my singing voice will never be the same. When I had to swallow the radioactive iodine pill and spend 8 days in isolation, I had to acknowledge the Cancer. Oh Thyroid, how I hated you those 8 days! I was sick to my stomach, feverish, sore throat, and headache… It was like the worst kind of flu. And then the radiation attacked my salivary glands and left me swollen and spitless. All I wanted was some noodle soup and my husband. But no… I had to be on the low-iodine diet and was quarantined… alone. You probably don’t realize, but a person’s biggest struggles in life—the things they feel they may just not make it through—are never as important or monumental to other people as they are to the person experiencing it. Life went on for everyone else, but I was alone. I felt like people expected me to be “over it.” But I had only just figured out what “it” was. It took a long time for me to figure out, but I was never really alone in all that. I recently read the story of Joseph, you know—in the Bible. That guy was down on his luck, let me tell you! His brothers sold him into slavery and he ended up in prison for something he didn’t do. Eventually things turned around for him and when faced with whether or not to forgive the people who caused him so much pain, he responded with the most interesting statement. He said, “Don’t feel badly. Don’t blame yourselves. God was behind it. He used me through this.” Now lest you misunderstand, Dear Thyroid—I do not believe that everything happens for a reason. Nor do I believe that anyone other than YOU and your fateful rottenness is responsible for this demise. However, I would like to take this rare opportunity to inform you that what you intended for my harm, God did indeed reroute for my good. So a giant nose-thumbing to you, Sir, in that respect. This year has been the worst, but also the best. I have experienced the utter and complete darkness of hitting rock bottom, but I have grown so much from there, that I barely recognize myself anymore. Before you left me, I wondered about meaning and purpose. I was selfish and took a lot of things for granted. Now, my body is perhaps more broken than ever, but my Life is breathing and vibrant and making a difference. Which brings me to the point– because there is a point after all– of this letter. Forgiveness. I’m cutting you loose, my Dear Thyroid. And it’s not for your benefit, but for mine. Because I’m not gaining any peace in continuing to hate, loathe and despise your sorry excuse for a gland. I’ll thank you kindly for the opportunity to become a better, thyroid-free me. And I will remember, with fondness, the journey that got me here. With love (if only a little), Jaimee