not dying

Today is a good day.

Today I met with a new endocrinologist to discuss My Disease.

Doesn't that sound dramatique? My Disease. It's kind of NBD (no big deal) to me at this point because I've been living with My Disease for six years-- well, really my whole life, but with the knowledge of it for six years-- and things look good.

What's My Disease? Just a hyperthyroid condition called Graves Disease. Remember Marty Feldman? Remember this guy? He had it too. He's one of my heroes. He had very advanced Graves Disease (with the eyeballs and all that) and still managed to be very funny and have very funny friends and a very successful acting career. I mean, he definitely had a specific niche in Hollywood, but he filled it well. I could have a niche (even with the eyeballs-- which I don't have [phew!]). I even wrote a poem about Graves and originally called it "Cheers to Marty Feldman." It looks like free verse but it's actually an Italian Petrarchan sonnet. Tricky!

But anyway, so my thyroid and I have been close pals for about six years now. I call her Madame Butterfly-- get it? Because the thyroid is the "butterfly gland?" Get it? Ha-cha-cha! And I mean, while she caused some big major problems up front, it seems we've reached a kind of truce in our relationship.

Today's latest is: Madame promises to chill out and I promise to not fill her with drugs for a while.

We'll see how long this agreement continues.

In the meantime, good job Madame. Keep on truckin'!

It's a good day.