Hello everyone,
This week has been a whirlwind of emotions and medical updates, and I find myself struggling to put it all into words. There’s so much to unpack, and I’m not quite sure where to begin. But I believe that sharing my experiences might help me process everything and perhaps resonate with someone out there facing similar challenges.
A couple of weeks ago, I completed an at-home Fecal Immunochemical Test (FIT)—a routine screening for colon cancer and other issues that I’ve done every two years since I turned 50. Around the same time, my doctor was investigating some new chest pains I’ve been experiencing over the summer, as well as internal cramps I reported back in August. They found traces of blood in my bladder, so I was prescribed antibiotics, and things seemed to improve.
Recently, I was diagnosed with Hashimoto’s thyroiditis, an autoimmune disorder affecting the thyroid gland. My blood test showed a TSH (Thyroid Stimulating Hormone) level of 0.09 mIU/L, which is below the normal range of 0.4 to 4.0 mIU/L. Symptoms of this condition can include:
- Nervousness, anxiety, or irritability
- Weight loss despite normal or increased appetite
- Rapid or irregular heartbeat
- Increased sweating and sensitivity to heat
- Tremors or shakiness
These symptoms overlap with those I’ve been managing due to my mental health condition for the past 25 years. It’s like adding fuel to an already burning fire, amplifying challenges I’ve long been trying to cope with.
On top of that, my Vitamin D levels came back severely low at 25 ng/mL. A deficiency like this can lead to:
- Bone pain or muscle weakness
- Increased risk of fractures
- Fatigue and mood changes
In August, I underwent a stress test for my heart. I was under the impression that I passed, but as you might know, I often struggle to focus during medical consultations because of racing thoughts.
Fast forward to today, I received a call from my doctor informing me that the FIT results detected blood. Typically, this would mean scheduling a colonoscopy—which is overwhelming enough for me—but given the prior infection in August, there are heightened concerns that it could be systemic.
I find myself caught between fight or flight—a rock and a hard place. The thought of undergoing these medical procedures, with my mental condition, feels more daunting than anything I’ve faced in years. The colonoscopy is scheduled for the 20th, and just yesterday, I got another call for a heart consultation because it turns out I didn’t pass my stress test completely after all.
For most people, this might be just another part of aging. I spoke with my wife—the bravest and most courageous person I know. She’s been through so much: four kids (one via C-section), a complete collapse after her C-section that required hospitalization, blood transfusions, and being on oxygen. She’s even had a camera put down her throat for a hernia. She’s my rock and the reason I can live with the comfort of family rather than in a hospital. She took courses on mental health to better support me. She’s truly amazing.
That’s why I turned to her, as I always do when I’m overwhelmed. I tried to express how utterly terrified I am. Maybe she had other things on her mind, or perhaps she’s grown weary of my constant fears and short temper lately. She simply said, “Come on, I’ve had a camera put down my throat; it’s nothing.” For the first time in a long while, I felt alone. I know she didn’t mean it that way, and perhaps she’s just exhausted from dealing with my exaggerated fears and irritability. I’m hoping that adjusting my medications will help since I’ve been, to put it mildly, difficult to live with.
I haven’t brought it up with her again. Maybe she’s right; perhaps I should convince myself that it’s really nothing—even though I’m terrified inside. I hope I haven’t strained our relationship. She’s not just my wife; she’s my soulmate and caregiver.
Navigating these health challenges is overwhelming, especially when compounded by mental health struggles. I’m trying to find the courage to face these procedures, but the fear feels insurmountable at times. Writing about it helps, even if just a little.
If you’ve read this far, thank you for taking the time. If you’re facing similar fears or uncertainties, know that you’re not alone. Let’s take it one step at a time.
Until next time,
Jack
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