After 2 weeks of resisting and continuing to feel like exhausted crap, I decided to take the levothyroxine the doctor prescribed. Day one I felt nothing. Day two I felt nothing. Same for days three through seven. I thought the doctor said this was supposed to take a week? I began to suspect he was a lying troll.
Levothyroxine is a man-made version of T4, a thyroid hormone. He started me on 25 mcgs. After a week of no improvement, I moved to 50 mcgs. After a month of 50, I still felt like crap. Worse crap, actually. My heart fluttering had increased significantly and I started breaking out in hives. That’s when I demanded to be moved to the big brand name stuff—Synthroid. Apparently not all levothyroxines are created equal. Different companies have slightly different amounts in each pill, so if you’re on a generic there’s a chance you’re messing with your dose every time you fill your prescription. With a brand name drug you know you’re getting the same amount every time. Plus, “Synthroid” is a lot easier to say than “levothyroxine.” A month on Synthroid and I still felt like crap. People told me to have patience. I told them to fuck off.
It was about this time I decided to have a party. A pity party. I sent myself an invitation:
My Pathetic Pity Party
You are cordially invited to My Pathetic Pity Party
Location: My Bathroom Floor
Dress: Sweat Pants and a Dirty T-Shirt
Activities: Sobbing uncontrollably and asking, “Why?” to no one in particular.
Sound fun? Come!!