On February 29, 2012, I was diagnosed with Hashimoto’s disease.
How do the medical professionals plan to treat or cure it? They don’t. Their response to, “So what do I do?” was on par with, “Just deal with it/Own it/This is who you are.”
A former boss of mine once ran down a list of her chronic physical ailments. When she got to Hashimoto’s disease, I distinctly remember thinking, “Man, if I ever have to get a disease, that’s the one I want.” And here I am. Could I have willed this to happen?
The years of bizarre weight and energy-level fluctuations have almost all been worth my now being able to go up to someone, look this person in the eye, and say: “I have Hashimoto’s disease.” The facial expressions I get in return are the stuff retorts are made of.
It sounds like most people with Hashimoto’s say (and only when asked): “I have a thyroid condition” or “I’ve got a jacked-up thyroid.” Not me. It’ll be Hashimoto’s this, Hashimoto’s that. Hashimoto-based haggling, Hashimoto-ing my way to getting an entire row of seats to myself on the subway (“Oh honey, I wouldn’t sit there if I were you, what with my Hashimoto’s disease and all…”), etc., etc.
Let the ownership begin.
Attack of the Hole-y Jeans!
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