I was at my physical and the doctor asked me about my five bruises. “Yardwork.” I said.
That was early last month. Now I have 36 bruises. I didn’t even know about the ten on the back of my right arm; Gary had to ask why I have ten tiny bruises in a row. And 11 on my left leg, and 11 on my right leg, and then a few — four — on my left arm.
Doctors know, though. They want me back for a repeat thyroid test in three months because the standard test shows some wonkiness. I have been waiting for years for that organ to peter out: during one of my two MS flare-ups there was a lesion too close to whatever brain part controls that system and the resident were quite surprised (and perhaps a little disappointed) that I wasn’t having thyroid problems.
It might be Hashimoto’s disease, when the immune system attaches the thyroid, because sometimes a white blood cell wants a bit of variety in its diet of axonal myelin. I would think the pills I take for the MS would keep the immune cells away from my thyroid just as the same as they do when they guard my central nervous system.
It certainly explains the three-month weight-loss plateau. Or, perhaps it’s just a fluke in the blood test and I really beat myself up gardening.