Contest Winners - Thyroid Disease

Thyroid Disease

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Thyroid Disease

Book Contest Winners

Two weeks ago, we announced a new contest here at the Thyroid Disease website, to win copies of Could it Be My Thyroid? a book by Sheldon Rubenfeld, M.D., who is Founding Chariman and Medical Director of the Thyroid Society for Education and Research. The Thyroid Society graciously donated the books for this contest just for visitors of my Mining Company site. The best personal stories submitted were chosen for each of three categories -- funniest thyroid related story, best tip on how to deal with your doctor, and best piece of advice to new thyroid patient.

Congratulations go out to our winners...Sarah Weglage (Best Advice to a New Patient), Paul Johnson (Best Doctor Tip) and Barb Dorrington (Funniest Thyroid Story) -- as well as the many folks who contributed their excellent suggestions, tips and stories, including several other great doc tips we've printed here.

Even if you didn't win, you can still get your own copy of Dr. Rubenfeld's book, Could it Be My Thyroid? by visiting the Thyroid Society's order page.

Winner: Best Advice to New Patient, Sarah Weglage

Our winning entry was sent in by Sarah Weglage. After being notified, Sarah said, "Wow! This is the first time I've ever won anything!" We're glad it was here at the Thyroid Disease Website! She has some excellent advice for someone newly diagnosed with thyroid disease.

If there were one thing I wish someone had told me about thyroid problems when I was first diagnosed, it would be that it can take a long time for one's body to respond completely to treatment. I had no idea that I would feel "out of sync" for so long! One certainly needs a sense of humor to get through the treatment process, especially if one has Hashimoto's Disease. When I talked to my doctor about the recurring symptoms months after treatment had begun, his answer was that it probably took a long time for my thyroid condition to create these problems, so it might take awhile to alleviate them. It's been three years, and we're still working on alleviating symptoms! I'm trying hard to keep the twinkle in my Irish eyes! -- Sarah Weglage

Winner: Best Doctor Tip, Paul Johnson

The winning entry in best tip on how to deal with your doctors was submitted by Paul Johnson, who is an RN. He says, "having such a diary helped me with my Social Security Disability Claim, as well as helping my physicians help me with my illnesses."

Several ideas to help:
Keep a daily diary of symptoms, both good and bad. This should contain both objective (measurable) information, such as temperature, and subjective information.
Very often the symptoms we have are not all put together in an organized manner. I often forget the date or time when something was better or worse. I also frequently forget what I wanted to talk with my doctor about.
Take a friend who is familiar with your, preferably your spouse. They can help you understand better what your physician is saying, and remind you of thing you have been concerned about. They can also help you take notes of your visit. This will help you after the visit, when you are not sure what the doc said.
Make sure your various doctors are communicating. It is possible for different physicians to prescribe medication that will interfere with each other. Be certain that you take lists of your medications with you ALL the time, but especially to any physician visit and pharmacy visit, if you use more than one pharmacy.
Make sure your health care professionals are working as a team, not independently. This may be hard for some, but your health depends on it.
Summary:

Make a list of specific questions
Keep a personal health diary with:
Note the time, duration (length of time), and quality (subjective description such as sharp) of pain, palpitations, fever, hot flashes, sweats, fatigue, etc.
Note what are the precipitating factors (what causes the symptoms)
Note what mediates (makes better) the symptoms.
Note daily diet, activity, sleep, and stresses (arguments, other health problems, financial concerns, marital stress).
Take your spouse or a good friend who is familiar with you and your concerns
Take notes to review later

BE CERTAIN ALL YOUR health care providers know what the others are doing.
-- Paul Johnson

Other Great Doc Tips

In addition to the winning post from Paul, several other posts had additional excellent points to make about dealing with your doctor. Here's some advice from Doug Thompson:

When you go into a physician, for the first time, either for diagnoses or a change of doctors, be prepared. Learn what you can, show him or her that you are knowledgeable about your disease and won't brook any nonsense. If you're not happy, go over his or her head and get a second opinion from an endocrinologist. If you're in an HMO, make sure the endocrinologist does his or her own testing and diagnosing, and doesn't just give you a pep talk about how good your primary physician is. (It happens!) -- Doug Thompson

And an excellent tip on dealing with doctors also came from contributor Tracy Ericson, who suggests:

Get to know the nurse. They generally will be more patient and have a bit more time to spend with you. While they won't give you the answers ("I'll have to check with the dr.") they can take your questions and get answers for you.
ALWAYS write down your list of questions before your appt. The doctor's busyness or presence may intimidate you so that you forget what you wanted to ask.
Remember you are the expert on your body's symptoms. If you feel your doctor is not listening to you, change.
-- Tracy Ericson

Winner: Funniest Thyroid Story, Barb Dorrington

Our winning funniest thyroid story comes to us from Barb Dorrington, who has this offbeat and sometimes surrealist humorout tale to tell about her thyroid surgery.

The doctor said it's time to have the old thyroid out because it has become too big and diseased. After all, he said, thyroid surgery is routine now and nothing can go wrong. Wanting to talk and swallow normally, I nodded my reply.
"We're going to try a new narcotics anesthetic," the doctor warbled, "and you'll feel just great afterward!" I picked up the pen and signed my consent.
The anesthetic mask was plunked on my tightened face by the chipper nurse. "Just breathe normally and before you know it, it will all be over." Not too convinced, I closed my eyes.
The lights shone brightly as I jerked awake from my deep slumber. Thrashing about on the small cot, the surgeon asked "why are you moving about like that?" I thought I said "I feel sick" but no words came out, only softly whispered air. I pointed at my tummy and the kind nurse said "we'll give you something for nausea."
The spinning lights and background voices of recovery room nurses captivated me. I was alive. "Help!" I yelled but only it was a whisper.
"HELP!" Moving only my eyeballs to my left, I calmed as I noticed the vomit pan. Wretching forward, I heaved and heaved. It felt good and bad all at once. And suddenly I was warm. That felt good too.
"Wait!" the warm was wet and with shock and horror, I realized for the first time since I was a child, I had peed my pants.
"I peed my pants" I said to the first nurse who checked on me. She didn't have a clue what I was mumbling. "Don't worry about your voice, it will be very hoarse."
"Now you tell me!" I sputtered indignantly and tried to show my displeasure with my furrowed eyebrows.
"It looks like you have a headache..." and she wandered off.
With a lot of effort, I forced the offending undies off, and laid there with them balled up in my hands, thinking now what? Time to fess up, I guess, and I showed them to the next nurse.
"Nice undies," she mused out loud as she too shuffled off.
The orderlies came to take me to my room and with a couple of fell swoops, deftly managed to wheel me to my new home, as I, all the while clutched my secret.
That's when I found out that the smell of urine does nothing to help with the overwhelming feeing of nausea. Taking the last bit of my energy, I flung them on my bedside table. Too sick and tired to move another muscle, I stayed on my side occasionally glancing at the underwear, marvelling how they remained as balled up as they were in my hands.
The first nurse came by and tried to understand me as I hoarsely mumbled "Danger! Wet underwear! Would you please hide those? Please?" I pointed at the balled little bundle and she smiled.
"Oh, there will be plenty of time to put things away later" as she walked cheerily away.
My first visitor was my dad... alone. This will never do. I'll pretend the underwear aren't there, even though I was sure they looked as big as a barn. I smiled wanly at his greeting. And the good news was when he put his ear right to my mouth, he could even make out a few words I was even saying. Patiently, he spoke softly to me, resting his arm and hand against the bedside table. Yes, THAT bedside table. One time, I could swear his baby finger touched them. Gone! Boy, that was a close call.
Next came my sister-in-law. She would help but the trick was to get her to her me and she had a hearing problem. I pointed at the underwear. She just said "oh yeah" and looked at me. Then I pointed at my lower half.
She said, "No, oh no, that's where I draw the line. I'm not dressing you." I shook my head violently, well at least until I started to get the heaves again. I pretended to make a spraying noise. Finally, finally she caught on. She said to wait a minute, left, and came back with a rubber glove. Gingerly, she kneaded the underwear into the glove. The glove looked like a plumped up little head. "At least this way, it's sanitary. I'll take it home and wash it."
Just then, another nurse arrived. "What exactly are you doing with that?" the nurse demanded of my sister-in-law.
Gazing carefully at the nurse, and without missing a beat, my sister-in-law said in a loud clear voice "why I'm putting on a puppet show for my sick sister-in-law here." With that, she jettisoned a pen out of her purse, drew a quick face on the glove, and started to speak in a squeaky voice.
The nurse looking somewhat non-plussed, as my sister-in-law backed out of the room with her squeaky voice trailing off. The nurse turned her attention back to me and said, "Well, the fingers on that glove did make great ears!" Feeling calm and dry and a little bit back in control, I drifted off to sleep.
TRUE STORY. HAPPY ENDING. I NOW CAN TALK. -- Barb Dorrington