Yes, it’s long and detai­led, but it’s a remar­ka­ble story of having mul­ti­ple ill­nes­ses and poor diag­no­ses for years, finally fin­ding desic­ca­ted thy­roid, trea­ting low cor­ti­sol, dis­co­ve­ring Celiac disease, and finally living again. Very worth it to read!

After moving to the US at age 20, my diet chan­ged. I began to eat a lot of sand­wiches and pasta. At 23, I began expe­rien­cing chro­nic cons­ti­pa­tion. I had every GI test under the sun, but nothing sho­wed a cause. I weighed 95 lbs all my life and wore a size 1, so I dealt with it — for the next 23 years, before dis­co­ve­ring the solution.

By the time I was 36, cons­ti­pa­tion was so bad at times, that I was often una­ble to have a bowel move­ment for 10 days at a time. Laxa­ti­ves had stop­ped wor­king. I’d also star­ted to strug­gle with my weight, out of nowhere. I star­ted wor­king out inten­sely and mana­ged to keep the weight off barely. But if I stop­ped wor­king out for even a cou­ple of days, I gai­ned and strug­gled again. Wor­king out, I began to expe­rience leg cramps and fati­gue. In addi­tion, I would find my left leg had gone to sleep after sit­ting even for a few brief moments, but I wouldn’t be aware of the pro­blem until I stood up.

When I dis­cus­sed my symp­toms with a doc­tor before sur­gery for a den­tal issue in 2001, and asked if it were pos­si­ble something was wrong with my thy­roid, she tes­ted only TSH, which was 3.9 (high end of the range was 5.0). If only I’d known bet­ter at that time! I’d always thought doc­tors and vete­ri­na­rians were somewhat supreme beings who could look at a per­son or ani­mal and fix them up. The sum­mer I tur­ned 38, I began to rea­lize that vets were anything but when one almost killed my belo­ved 16 year old cat through her lack of knowledge.

Taking my cat’s health into my own hands, I began to research everything I could find, vowing never to put my com­plete trust in a vet again. The more I lear­ned about my cat’s hyperthy­roi­dism, the more I read artic­les about human thy­roid con­di­tions. I began to won­der again if I was hypothy­roid. Wor­king out became dif­fi­cult and exhaus­ting, and the weight began to pile on. The chro­nic cons­ti­pa­tion tur­ned into chro­nic diarrhea. By the next sum­mer, when I was 39, I could no lon­ger fight the battle of the bulge. I’d gai­ned 25 lbs. My hair was falling out and/or brea­king off and just loo­ked terri­ble. My periods stop­ped com­ple­tely. By the end of the year, I had severe foot pain and leg cramps and began to expe­rience dif­fi­culty wal­king. I gai­ned another 40 lbs in less than 6 months. My skin was like that of a snake; my hair was tan­gled, dry, brittle and was falling out. I didn’t have the energy to comb it, let alone blow dry it. I didn’t sho­wer every day due to lack of abi­lity to stand up for very long. I had acid reflux and diarrhea 20 – 25 times a day. I couldn’t eat anything but chic­ken broth, which brought the diarrhea down to 8 – 10 times a day. That was a good day for me. I was cons­tantly nau­seous. I deve­lo­ped nasty pain­ful huge boils on my breasts which then explo­ded and lea­ked pus for days. I was cons­tantly cove­red in a rash and very itchy.

I went to another doc­tor and she again orde­red blood tests. She said my TSH was “slightly” high, but would come back down on its own. It was 6.5 and the refe­rence range went to 5.0. Little did I know! She put me on an anti­de­pres­sant, a drug for IBS, and one for acid reflux. Nothing wor­ked. She sent me for x-rays of my foot and leg. They came back sho­wing nothing, so she deci­ded depres­sion was cau­sing my pain. She said I had too many pro­blems and was just too dif­fi­cult to help! How discouraging.

I moved into the guest room because I got up so many times a night with diarrhea. I spent most of that year in bed get­ting worse and worse. My hus­band said he’d look in to ensure I was still breathing, and if I was awake, he’d offer me chic­ken broth. I couldn’t walk and I couldn’t stand up. In the mor­nings, my feet were so crip­pled that I craw­led to the bath­room, and even that hurt. I couldn’t go downs­tairs without help. My feet would seize up in the middle of the night and I’d wake up screa­ming. When I tried to stand, I fell down. When I tried to walk, I screa­med in agony. I was cons­tantly cold. Sit­ting down, my legs and/or feet went to sleep and became numb. I stop­ped tal­king to friends and emo­tio­nally gave up and thought about ways to end my life daily. More doc­tors and more anti­de­pres­sants were presc­ri­bed. Some made me climb the walls, some made me sleepy. Nothing helped.

I tried another doc­tor. She sug­ges­ted I could be in pre­ma­ture meno­pause. Since I hadn’t had a period in 11 months, she said to wait one more month, and then, we’d dec­lare it meno­pause. But my labs may take a year to catch up. And even if it was meno­pause, she had no sug­ges­tions other than HRT, which she said would be too risky for me since my mother had breast can­cer twice.

A month later, I got a period, but it never stop­ped — and ended up con­ti­nuing for 5 months! Blood would lite­rally gush out of me from time to time and spill on the floor. The doc­tor sent me for ultra­sounds and they couldn’t find anything wrong with me. How can a per­son bleed like that and for that long and have nothing wrong? I went to a gas­troen­te­ro­lo­gist about the diarrhea who recom­men­ded a colo­nos­copy, and an endos­copy. I was told they were nor­mal. I saw a com­mer­cial on TV where some guy was com­plai­ning about going to the bath­room 7 times and thought “If ONLY!” I’d have given my left arm to have diarrhea that little! How could nothing be wrong with me? Even though I didn’t eat, I con­ti­nued to gain weight. How could that be?

I just felt hope­less. I would have killed myself if it wasn’t for my cat who nee­ded me for his health con­di­tions. Actually, I plan­ned to do just that when he finally pas­sed away. I tried another doc­tor who recom­men­ded yet another anti­de­pres­sant. That one would have been No. 7 for me. In a rare moment of bra­vado, I told her I’d take it, but only if she’d recheck my thy­roid, and this time, check T4 and Free T4 — which I knew about from my cat’s con­di­tion. She agreed.

A few days later, her nurse called to tell me I nee­ded to pick up a presc­rip­tion for Synth­roid imme­dia­tely and start on it. My TSH was 18, and my Free T4 (the only thing tes­ted) was >0.01. I’d been right all along: it was my thy­roid. By this time, I’d gai­ned a total of 93 lbs (for a weight of 187 lbs), which was almost dou­ble my ori­gi­nal weight and I was gro­wing out of a size 20.

For the first cou­ple of weeks on Synth­roid, I almost felt human again. Then, nothing. I saw an endoc­ri­no­lo­gist but she didn’t have any idea why I was fee­ling so poorly. I lear­ned of another endoc­ri­no­lo­gist who presc­ri­bed Armour and really hoped for a miracle. It was a 5 month wait for an appoint­ment. In the mean­time, the 5 month long period ended, and I didn’t have another period for 3 months. When I had one again, it las­ted 3 months. In the middle of that, I’d gone to a dif­fe­rent gas­troen­te­ro­lo­gist. He told me I was a wal­king text­book case for Celiac Disease — which I’d never heard of. He sent me for blood tests, telling me if I had Celiac, all I’d need was a sim­ple die­tary change and I’d feel bet­ter within 6 – 7 weeks. He also sent me for an abdo­mi­nal ultra­sound, which cau­sed diver­ti­cu­li­tis and lan­ded me in the hos­pi­tal. I deve­lo­ped pneu­mo­nia in the hos­pi­tal and they couldn’t figure out what was wrong with me. The gas­troen­te­ro­lo­gist told me I was just too dif­fi­cult of a case and I didn’t have Celiac, and I should go to the Mayo or Cle­ve­land Cli­nic. He was angry that I wasn’t text­book. I chec­ked myself out against medi­cal advice in com­plete frustration.

Finally, I saw the endoc­ri­no­lo­gist who presc­ri­bed Armour. He told me he’d be glad to switch me to 1.5 grains of Armour. Great, I thought. Well, I might as well have con­ti­nued on Synth­roid because I felt no bet­ter. There was ONE impro­ve­ment. I began to have somewhat regu­lar periods again — not always once a month, some­ti­mes twice a month, some­ti­mes once every 6 weeks, but at least I was having them. He added Cyto­mel months later. That didn’t help. He took me off it, and begrud­gingly inc­rea­sed my Armour dose to 2 grains. That didn’t help either. The chro­nic diarrhea had cau­sed pain­ful hemorrhoids. I went to a sur­geon to see if they could be sur­gi­cally remo­ved. That was the very worst day of my life. I couldn’t remem­ber my own phone num­ber and had to ask my hus­band. I sat there with the colo­nos­copy report in my hands bea­ring the gastroenterologist’s name and I couldn’t think to look at it. I couldn’t remem­ber anything and could barely speak. The sur­geon and his nurse began spea­king very slowly and clearly to me. They must have thought I was retarded.

That was the last straw. I’d never been so humi­lia­ted in my life. I’d always been an inte­lli­gent per­son but I was in such brain fog, I barely knew my name.

About a year before this, someone on a cat health group had men­tio­ned the STTM site to me. I’d loo­ked but thought it see­med very mili­tant calling doc­tors and the way they trea­ted peo­ple “mad­ness”. Firmly roo­ted in my scien­ti­fic research for my cat’s ill­nes­ses, I just wasn’t ready. But on that day, in Sep­tem­ber 2006, I was ready! It was “do or die” for me. If what was sug­ges­ted didn’t work, I was going to end my life.

I began inc­rea­sing Armour as recom­men­ded. Nothing hap­pe­ned. Rea­ding that most peo­ple nee­ded 3 – 5 grains, I figu­red I’d go to 4, dou­ble what had been presc­ri­bed. If it wasn’t wor­king then, I’d give up. Lo and behold, a few days after I got to 4 grains, I could walk, I could stand, I could talk, I could think. It was a miracle! Within 3 months, I lost 15 lbs, not doing anything to achieve it. Within 7 months, I’d lost 37 lbs.

I wish my story ended there, but it didn’t. I still had diarrhea. And a few months after get­ting to 4 grains, I began having terri­ble PMS with fati­gue and very sen­si­tive breasts. After a few months of that, I heard of a doc­tor who wor­ked with patients by phone and con­sul­ted her. She put me on high dose pro­ges­te­rone and told me to inc­rease Armour by 1/4 grain.

I was also under a lot of stress at the time because my husband’s health issues were rea­ring their ugly head, but I was still too sick to see it. Which one of those issues cau­sed adre­nal fati­gue, I don’t know. But I crashed seriously and all my hypothy­roid symp­toms retur­ned. Armour was not able to work because my cor­ti­sol was so low.

With the caring help of Debo­rah and Val from the STTM forums, I star­ted on hydro­cor­ti­sone, bac­king my Armour dosage to 2 grains for a while. That didn’t make me happy at all. I knew what it felt like to be “human” again on Armour, and so, hydro­cor­ti­sone was a means to an end: get­ting back on 4 grains of Armour.

4 months later, I was able to wean off hydro­cor­ti­sone, and I was back to 4 grains of Armour. I rea­li­zed it just wasn’t enough, and kept going to 5 grains, where I felt fan­tas­tic. That is, except for the diarrhea — which I still hadn’t been able to fix — and PMS — but at least I could walk, talk, think! In July of 2008, I read one of Dr. John Lee’s books and star­ted on the brand of pro­ges­te­rone cream he made while alive, and which his family con­ti­nues: Progesterall.

Also, while researching something else, I hap­pe­ned upon a post on a Celiac forum by a woman who was telling my story about GI issues. She men­tio­ned a gene­tic and stool test from Ente­ro­labs which had diag­no­sed her as having Celiac, where blood tests and endos­copy had fai­led. I deci­ded to become gluten-free and orde­red the test. Sure enough, I have Celiac Disease.

And that brings me to 2009. I currently weigh 107 lbs, and am wor­king out to lose the rest of my weight. I have a little extra weight left around my mid­sec­tion, but I’m not obese any­more, and that’s the only remin­der of what I went through. I wear a size 2, and fit into some size 1s. I don’t have leg or foot pains any­more, and I can stand, run, work out, and do wha­te­ver I want to do. I don’t have acid reflux, cons­ti­pa­tion or diarrhea (other than when I mis­ta­kenly con­sume glu­ten). My skin is soft and sup­ple, my hair is silky soft. Stran­gely enough, even the car­pal tun­nel syn­drome I’d deve­lo­ped along the way is gone.

I’m now 44. I feel alive and life is worth living again. Without STTM, my life would have been over, and I’m eter­nally gra­te­ful to all those who have told their sto­ries and given me advice along the way. My belo­ved cat finally pas­sed away 6 years after his trou­bles began in Decem­ber 2008. He was 22. My research gave him many years of good qua­lity life, and ulti­ma­tely, through that research, he hel­ped me to find a way to live again and regain qua­lity of life. It was through a cat group where I loo­ked for help for him that I found out about STTM and was able to help myself. Is it coin­ci­dence that he wai­ted until I was bet­ter to leave this world? I think not.

Stop the Thyroid Madness - The Book

Want all the STTM web­site infor­ma­tion plus more details?

Don’t want to be tied to a computer?

Check out infor­ma­tion plus orde­ring details on the most infor­ma­tive, life-changing and only patient-to-patient book on the mar­ket: Stop the Thy­roid Mad­ness book here.

All books orde­red directly from the publishing com­pany will con­tain a book­mark of upda­ted information!

Do NOT follow this link or you will be banned from the site!