SOLITARY CONFINEMENT- DAY 1

My day started at five am so that I could get one last meal in before six hours of fasting in preparation for my thyroid ablation today. I was back in bed by five fifteen after yet another bowl of oatmeal and plate of egg whites- some of the only foods I could find that are easy to prepare, somewhat appetizing, and on the low-iodine diet I've had to be on since the first of the year. But since I have been off the anti-thyroid meds for five days, there was no chance I'd be able to go back to sleep.

I saw Tony off to work at seven with a big, gotta-last-for-seven-days hug and got the kids ready for school. I dropped the kids at school and had coffee with a friend, or rather, I watched a friend drink coffee- damned fasting rules- while sitting in the morning sunshine. Then off to the doctor's office to swallow a pill they brought to me in a lead vial.

"Don't touch it. Just take it straight out of the vial," the doctor told me. I do wonder what on earth I'm doing taking a pill that isn't safe to touch. And thus began seven days of solitary confinement.

While everyone was at school I had free reign of the house, but once the kids were home, I was confined to my office in the garage. Once Tony got home and had to do a workout in the garage, I was sent to the upstairs bedroom. If I had to enter the common areas, I found myself calling out to warn everyone of my presence. I felt like a leper calling out, "Unclean. Unclean."

I have dutifully used paper plates, cups, and utensils, double bagged all my trash separately, and stored it outside. I have stored all my radioactive clothes and towels in my now radioactive office and always flushed twice when using the bathroom. I waved goodnight to my kids and gave them air hugs from down the hall. My evening ended with a quick hazmat sweep of the upstairs bedroom and making my bed downstairs all alone.

Since I could not spend any time with my family, I spent most of the day writing and editing and I have to say, I absolutely loved it. Although I miss my family desperately, six more days of my writer's retreat and I should be one very content writer.

Thyroid Zombies

We are the thyroid zombies, The walking dead, The barely hanging on. We hear our doctors tell us normal is between zero and forty-three, But we are five-thousand and twenty three, And will quickly be, On a first name basis with our phlebotomist. We take our pills in the day to keep us up, And our pills at night to put us down, And still yet other pills to fix the problems The others pills brought on. That person in the car next to you, Taking that thirty second nap at a stop light, Because he can't keep his lids open a minute longer, He's one of us. The girl in the cubicle next to you, The one who is grumpy, unfriendly, and depressed one day, And focused, angry, and driven the next. She is one of us. The guy in the store, Who is stopped dead in the middle of the aisle for a full six minutes, Searching through his brain for any clue of what he came for, He is one of us. The girl on the treadmill next to you at the gym, Who just last week finished a triathlon, But today can't make it through a twenty minute walk without pausing from weakness, She, too, is one of us. We are the thyroid zombies, The walking dead, The barely hanging on. We fight our demons. We swallow the radioactive pill that even the doctor won't touch with bare hands. We drag our limp, tired bodies from their ill-used beds each morning. We shower and get ready when every movement hurts to even think about. We force a smile on our faces to hide the agony another day at work brings. We workout every day when just sitting is a chore in hopes of getting back the fitness we once had. We mourn for the days when we had a thyroid that hadn't revolted. When metabolism was something we took for granted. When the calories we ate were the only deciding factor, In how much weight we put on or lost. Now some mystical T4 number decides, That all our hard work in watching our diet, And exercising like crazy, Should be rewarded with a bonus ten pounds, To carry around on our already bloated and massive body. We mourn the olden days when playing with the kids, Was easy. And that a simple walk with the family after dinner, Was doable. When completing a sentence without getting lost, Happened. When happiness was an emotion, That could be felt. We are the thyroid zombies, The walking dead, The barely hanging on. One day we might, Be better. Be lighter. Be smarter. Be happy. One day we might, Have energy. Have sleep. Have strength. Have spunk. One day we might, Not be sick. But for now, We are the thyroid zombies, The walking dead, The barely hanging on.

Sunbathing on the First

Laying out in the sun in eighty degree weather on the first day of the year sure makes me grateful to live in Southern California where I can train outdoors year-round with no problems whatsoever. I don’t even own running pants. Most days I can barely stand to run in more than shorts and a running bra.

But it also means I never really have a good excuse to wimp out of a run or bike. It's this time of year that I understand why we have to pay the big bucks to live in San Diego.

It’s also the time of year when I start to put together my plans for this year's race/adventure calendar. And it’s loading up fast. My last race was February 2010 when my thyroid finally won and I had to admit that I was no longer capable of any sort of physical exertion.

Finally, after two years of finding a diagnosis and fighting this disease with meds, I have the upper hand. I am, for the first time in a long time, looking forward to a full year of racing and adventuring.

First up is the Carlsbad Half-marathon. For me this means an entire weekend of fun and events. Insulindependence is a major charity for the race and makes it worth your while. The weekend starts with a Torrey Pines hike and a time to meet the athletes in from all over the country. Saturday morning means breakfast and a surf session or watching the kids race at Lego Land.

Of course there is the carbo-loading dinner the night before the race and the celebratory party after the race. There is nothing better than celebrating with over one hundred diabetics and diabetic friends after a huge race.

Next up is the race that ended my 2010 season, the Race On the Base in my hometown of Los Alamitos, CA. It’s an early season reverse triathlon which means you run then bike and then swim. I love these because there is nothing better after a four mile run and twelve mile bike than to jump in a super warm pool and rinse off. You finish the race squeaky clean and smelling of chlorine.

This year it is also the first race for each of my kids and hopefully the beginning of a whole new love for them. It may make Eli one of the youngest bilateral club footers to finish a triathlon. He is following closely in his father’s footsteps as he may become one of the first bilateral club footers to finish an Ironman Triathlon next November.

In February I may also be applying for a Captain position for the Insulindependence A1Sea program. This is, I think, one of the greatest parts of Insulindependence. If I get accepted it will include a week at Insulindependence University in late June, a possible sailing trip to Florida next February and a possible trip to Hawaii in June of 2013 to spend a week mentoring the group of Junior Captainsand taking advantage of all the aquatic opportunities Hawaii has to offer. The Captainship also includes some work fundraising.

Other than my races, I will be spending a large amount of time and energy trying to bring down my A1C’s which have shot out of my comfort zone while I have been battling this thyroid thing. And more time trying to finish the book. And, of course, I was silly enough to swear off all soda, so it should be an interesting year.