The thyroid is connected to the…Posted: April 7, 2013
Yeah, my thyroid doesn’t quite function ideally. It is true.
I’ve been secretly trying to clue you into this, through a bunch of carefully timed, meaningful glances, not to mention the bunch of times I just outright said it to you. Unfortunately, I am only able to make vowel sounds, and a very few (uh, two) consonant sounds. Maybe you didn’t understand me.
That pediatric endocrinologist you took me to was pretty nice. It was a little awkward when she measured my junk, I’ll be honest. (I know you were worried about it after all that internet stuff said kids with Ds sometimes have small… er… endowments. I watched you look up that article, remember? Don’t try to hide it from me, Mom.) Turns out that the goods are quite up to snuff, so bully for me. Not that I worried about it, but glad you’re feeling better.
She was very patient with all your questions (not to toot my own horn but I thought I was pretty patient as well), and assured you that there was no concern for my thyroid issues impacting my brain development. Whew. I have subclinical hypothyroidism. Basically means that my thyroid may be on the verge of pooping out, but it hasn’t yet.
The doc seemed very interested in these studies you’d found (Yeah, I watched you look those up, as well. I’m with you all day, ya know.), in which subclinical hypothyroid levels in kids with Down syndrome were normalized by taking zinc and selenium. You and the doctor made a plan. I’m going to take some zinc and selenium for a while and y’all are going to steal my blood again to check my thyroid levels. Sigh. I guess we can do that. If the vitamin supplements don’t work, I’m going to get synthetic thyroid.
I’d rather get the vitamin drops, since having to eat the crushed up synthetic thyroid pill doesn’t sound all that delicious. Either way, though. It’s all good. At least my penis is normal, eh? Let’s never speak of that again.
p.s. Random readers, friends, and family: My mama went back and found this hilarious progression of pictures when she was trying to make me do tummy time. I’m not always loving tummy time. That sh*t is hard sometimes!
p.p.s. Mama, you have not mentioned a single thing on this darn blog about the fact that I have been rolling over front to back, reaching up in the air, and can sit in the Bumbo. It is as if all my efforts to impress you are for naught. Sheesh.