Most gals' blogs I read who've tried acupuncture never seem to have the kind of experience I do during most treatments. Basically, it's like legal drugs. I leave even so-so treatments feeling pleasantly relaxed. But the really killer sessions, the ones that have made a believer out of me, are the ones that feel like everything is suddenly being shifted into place, like I've just had the most satisfying meal of my life. I love my acupuncturist. She's very calm and conservative in her treatment approach and she's managed to help me reduce a lot of the anxiety, stress, bad habits, and general unhealthiness I'd slipped into in recent years. Anyway, after hearing my symptoms and listening to my pulse, she decided to use moxa, which is smoldering powered mugwort, to warm certain points on the meridians. I felt like someone had poured warm comfort into my aching muscles and my joints, as I walked to the library from my appointment, moved smoothly and effortlessly. And my spotting has been banished once more, accompanied by a nice upswing in energy and mood.
On the Western front, I saw my gyno, also a delightful woman. She was all for trying my experiment and upping my 'roid dosage, so now I'm up to 100 mcg. It takes a few weeks for the benefits to kick in, and but hopefully, we'll soon get me down below 2 on the TSH scale. I know I'm going to feel great when we get there and we'll see if pregnancy results.
Friday, November 16, 2007
Monday, November 12, 2007
Out, out damn spot!
Okay, so real lit experts love to remind us that that's not actually what Shakespeare wrote, but it's definitely what I'm feeling at the moment. After a nice swim this morning, spotting. And in fact, I've been lightly spotting old blood -- see, I told you, all TMI bets are OFF -- since I ovulated. That's somewhat "normal" for me: I've always been a midcycle spotter. Today's was fresh, red, plentiful. Argh.
I can't say I'm all that surprised, though. Earlier this cycle, I was so amazingly exhausted for no clear reason. I was depressed and couldn't focus. I was cold and my digestion was really slow and icky. Now, I have the shoulder and back pain from hell, and the kind of odd aches and pains that make doctors roll their eyes and think crazy lady patient. In short, 'roid rage!!! Except with my thyroid, when it gets angry, it grinds to a halt. And freaky hormonal shit starts happening. My poor, poor thyroid. What made it loose its mind? Perhaps the cold weather?
I've got a gyno appointment this week. I'm planning a campaign to up my meds and see if we can get me down into the good-for-getting-knocked-up zone. The only thing I can think to do is try to take good care of myself, to be gentle, to feed myself tasty healthy food (no, that's not a contradiction in terms, I swear).
I can't say I'm all that surprised, though. Earlier this cycle, I was so amazingly exhausted for no clear reason. I was depressed and couldn't focus. I was cold and my digestion was really slow and icky. Now, I have the shoulder and back pain from hell, and the kind of odd aches and pains that make doctors roll their eyes and think crazy lady patient. In short, 'roid rage!!! Except with my thyroid, when it gets angry, it grinds to a halt. And freaky hormonal shit starts happening. My poor, poor thyroid. What made it loose its mind? Perhaps the cold weather?
I've got a gyno appointment this week. I'm planning a campaign to up my meds and see if we can get me down into the good-for-getting-knocked-up zone. The only thing I can think to do is try to take good care of myself, to be gentle, to feed myself tasty healthy food (no, that's not a contradiction in terms, I swear).
Thursday, November 8, 2007
A swift diagnosis
...in geologic time, and perhaps compared to the long suffering of many women with the wacky symptoms of hypothyroidism. I'm writing about my experiences because I hope some other gal out there who's scared and getting less than helpful information will benefit from my tales. It goes without saying that all TMI bets are off. I like to get detailed and --okay, ladies, don't cringe-- I've come to really love my body in all its gory glory.
My husband and I were old friends when we decided to team up and make a family. I had been longing for a man who would make a good father, and he'd been longing for a woman ready to have children. Perfect, right?
Well, there was this little problem. Hubby's reproductively stellar, but me? I'm not so great. Or so it seemed. I had this disturbing spotting, sometimes as much as a week before my period began to flow. Sometimes it felt like I was just spotting for my entire luteal phase, but in a regular pattern and without pain (thankfully). And no doc in the E. European city I lived in at the time had a clue. I tried antibiotics for three weeks and felt even shittier and spotted more. So I got a second, perhaps even stupider opinion and I tried progesterone, which turned out to be just as useless and made me feel like a blotted, weepy, brainless marshmallow. After my trials, the dodo gyn's helpful summary: "Your ovaries don't work." In frustration, I went into denial until my future husband leaped onto the scene and whisked me back to the U.S.
Fortunately, temps showed I was apparently ovulating regularly, following that charming textbook pattern of dips and rises and falls. Now back in the States with my man, I went to another doctor, a nice crunchy naturopath who said it was either the mysterious luteal phase defect or polyps. Not having health insurance, I had to put my quest for clarity on hold.
For a year. Yeah, I know. But once I finally returned to the fold of the insured, I went to yet another ob/gyn of the more classical medical bent. She, like the others, was a bit baffled, so she tried a few blood tests. Progesterone: very nice, and further confirmed ovulation, as did a mid-cycle ultrasound. The HSG= tubes clear. No anemia or bleeding disorders, but when it came to TSH (thyroid stimulating hormone), I was underachieving at 4.5. This figure, as the educated hypo will tell you, is way above the new normal ranges, some of which put the higher end of healthy at 3 or less. Some docs insist that to get pregnant, the 1-2 range is ideal. My doc was fortunately well read enough to know about the changes in ranges and put me on Synthro*d. Over the next few months, I worked with an acupuncturist/herbalist and slowly increased my 'roid dosage. My cycles improved and the dread pirate Spot retreated. I felt better, ate better, stopped indulging my E. European-inspired love of wine, coffee and sweets, and started being so good to myself, it's ridiculous.
So we shall see. We're getting impatient -- it's been over two years since we started having sex without a net -- and may start on the IF coaster with some festive IUIs or something. Or I may continue to pursue my strict hippy path to parenthood until I can't take it anymore. Either way, the 'roid still needs to pick up the pace, and I'm hoping to convince my ob/gyn next week to up my dose and get me into that blessed promised land of 1-2 TSH.
My husband and I were old friends when we decided to team up and make a family. I had been longing for a man who would make a good father, and he'd been longing for a woman ready to have children. Perfect, right?
Well, there was this little problem. Hubby's reproductively stellar, but me? I'm not so great. Or so it seemed. I had this disturbing spotting, sometimes as much as a week before my period began to flow. Sometimes it felt like I was just spotting for my entire luteal phase, but in a regular pattern and without pain (thankfully). And no doc in the E. European city I lived in at the time had a clue. I tried antibiotics for three weeks and felt even shittier and spotted more. So I got a second, perhaps even stupider opinion and I tried progesterone, which turned out to be just as useless and made me feel like a blotted, weepy, brainless marshmallow. After my trials, the dodo gyn's helpful summary: "Your ovaries don't work." In frustration, I went into denial until my future husband leaped onto the scene and whisked me back to the U.S.
Fortunately, temps showed I was apparently ovulating regularly, following that charming textbook pattern of dips and rises and falls. Now back in the States with my man, I went to another doctor, a nice crunchy naturopath who said it was either the mysterious luteal phase defect or polyps. Not having health insurance, I had to put my quest for clarity on hold.
For a year. Yeah, I know. But once I finally returned to the fold of the insured, I went to yet another ob/gyn of the more classical medical bent. She, like the others, was a bit baffled, so she tried a few blood tests. Progesterone: very nice, and further confirmed ovulation, as did a mid-cycle ultrasound. The HSG= tubes clear. No anemia or bleeding disorders, but when it came to TSH (thyroid stimulating hormone), I was underachieving at 4.5. This figure, as the educated hypo will tell you, is way above the new normal ranges, some of which put the higher end of healthy at 3 or less. Some docs insist that to get pregnant, the 1-2 range is ideal. My doc was fortunately well read enough to know about the changes in ranges and put me on Synthro*d. Over the next few months, I worked with an acupuncturist/herbalist and slowly increased my 'roid dosage. My cycles improved and the dread pirate Spot retreated. I felt better, ate better, stopped indulging my E. European-inspired love of wine, coffee and sweets, and started being so good to myself, it's ridiculous.
So we shall see. We're getting impatient -- it's been over two years since we started having sex without a net -- and may start on the IF coaster with some festive IUIs or something. Or I may continue to pursue my strict hippy path to parenthood until I can't take it anymore. Either way, the 'roid still needs to pick up the pace, and I'm hoping to convince my ob/gyn next week to up my dose and get me into that blessed promised land of 1-2 TSH.
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