Four small glands behind the thyroid in the neck. Sometimes, these glands malfunction and turn into BENIGN tumours. When this happens, the broken gland(s) produce too much parathyroid hormone. This hormone takes calcium out of the bones and places it in the blood, regardless of previous levels in both. This can cause a person to suffer extreme fatigue, among other symptoms.
Diagnosis is by blood tests; too much calcium and high liver blood work, and bone density; too little calcium and ‘thin’ bones. Then you get to see a surgeon, who takes his own blood tests as confirmation and orders a scan of the area, to pinpoint exactly where the problem is.
This is my position now.
I visited the surgeon’s office yesterday, after my appointment last week was cancelled due to him being in surgery all that day after all. Whilst waiting, I hear the dulcet tones of screeching violins… a la ‘Psycho’ theme. It’s someone’s phone.
The gentleman answers his cell in an embarrassed hurry and legs it outside. I look around the waiting room. Everyone else seems oblivious and I am grateful to be on my own, (hubby was waiting in the car), since if anyone that actually knows me and my sense of humour had been with me, I would certainly have cracked up into fits of laughter… A surgeon’s waiting room hardly seems the place for humour!
I resolve to purse my lips tightly together and stem my mirth, choosing instead to smile and play ‘peek-a-boo’ with the twin babies opposite.
So. After an hour, (they were running very late), I make it into the office. The surgeon tells me that my tests are indeed still high. I had suspected as much, since the previous two bloods done at my own doctor’s office were the same… That was three blood tests in as many weeks. I was not expecting vastly differing results, personally.
I am told that a scan is necessary in order to localise the problem, the results of which will determine surgery. I would not have allowed anyone to work on me without this, but I keep this thought to myself, assuming he knows this already. I am instructed that, after the scan, I should make a further appointment to see him to discuss the results, and the next step… which will likely be removal of the offending parathyroid gland. This will eradicate the problem completely, once done.
The nurse tells me she will phone me the next day (today) with an appointment and asks if there is any time I prefer.
“Anytime but the twelfth,” I say. I explain that I have a very important interview with immigration on that day, to do with naturalization, and those are very hard to re-schedule, especially at short notice.
I leave the surgeon’s office an hour and a half after arriving. Most of this was spent waiting.
I share the humourous moment, of the Psycho themed cell phone and its owner, with hubby, once in the jeep. Much hilarity later, we go home, via Walmart… No description of that event can be recalled here, since it may cause trauma to anyone reading, as any trip to Walmart well might.
“We have nothing for the rest of this week, do we?” Hubby pipes up.
“No, apart from my writers’ group Thursday evening, we would seem to be clear… Of course, that could change, it frequently does.” I wished I had kept that as a thought, since we all know what happens when we speak with regard to future events (or non-events). I think it is called ‘tempting fate’.
Fast forward to this morning. The phone rings. I am expecting the nurse with news of a future appointment for said scan. I answer it.
“This is ******** from Washington Regional, just verifying some information for your appointment tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? I was not aware of an appointment tomorrow, please do continue.” I was not fully awake yet.
“It’s for your thyroid scan, ma’am.”
My gast was duly flabbered. That was quick! She goes on to tell me that the appointment will be at seven forty five… A.M!
Anyone that knows me is aware that mornings are not my best friend and an early morning with very little notice will strike terror into my soul. Needless to say, I am not looking forward to it. Not because of the scan, that should be painless and quick, but the ungodly silly ‘o’ clock in the morning will have me out of sync for days!
I shall have to set the alarm… several alarms… Oh, woe is me…