Turtle-Shell and Thyroxine

For about four years, I’ve had a problem with my thyroid. Before that, I didn’t even know I had anything with such an ugly name in my body. It is a gland located in the neck, and in close interaction with the hypothalamus and with other glands. The thyroid, like any gland that respects itself, releases hormones. Hormones (the word comes from Greek horman ‘to impel, to set in motion’) act as regulatory substances and are transported in tissue fluids such as blood or sap to stimulate specific cells or tissues into action. Hormonal systems are very complex, but this is as much as I have understood. The thyroid regulates the body’s metabolism very broadly. When shocked due to environmental or emotional factors, my thyroid reacts by becoming infected. Because this is a very sensitive thing, afterwards the full working capacity is reduced, because the infection has permanently damaged some of the tissue. This has happened a few times now, and I keep thinking that my metabolism gets slower and slower and I am turning into a turtle-shell.
When I went to my host to ask her advice about me seeing a specialist about my thyroid and cholesterol problems in Bucharest, she said to me, yes this is a good clinic, and yes, I will put in a word with my friend so you get an appointment with full attention (Romanian style). Thank you. But, she said, I will also offer my opinion. I don’t think you should solve this problem with medication. What you really need is to find your place in your life, settle down, found a family and until you don’t do that, your body is going to continue being haywire. You need to find a man and learn to be tolerant with them. This will make you happy. I found myself in full agreement with her, silently listening and nodding. Anyone heard of a hormone that sets this process in motion…?!?

302

That’s the number which has woken me up. It stands for the total cholesterol levels in my blood. Cholesterol (C 27 H 45 OH) is a compound of the sterol type found in most body tissues, including the blood and the nerves. Cholesterol and its derivatives are important constituents of cell membranes and precursors of other steroid compounds, but high concentrations in the blood (mainly derived from animal fats in the diet) are thought to promote arteriosclerosis. My cholesterol levels are double of the maximum it should be, despite a diet that is relatively low in animal fats, and despite moving about quite a lot. The price to pay for the stress of the phd? It means I will try to be a vegan for a while, and see what that changes. It worries me a bit, but it is strange how a number like that tells you about what happens inside your body. I feel angry about how this body of mine, that, since my early twenties, has been letting me down repeatedly. I am not sure what this cholesterol implies, but I have so many plans in my life that I need to pay heed to it...

Toes

I hit my little right toe against a wooden object that jumped into my way. Yes, it is the same toe that greatly handicapped me during the first months of my Masters year, causing some people only to inquire about the wellbeing of my toe (pars pro toto). However, it is not quite as bad, I think, the coloration is (as yet) not quite as extensive and beautifully blue… though it made me think about this particular toe that I had completely forgotten about for the last year and a half. I think our feet are not well designed. I think they should be much tougher, like horse hooves, so we could walk barefoot and not have a problem. It would serve a lot of different purposes. Even saying, I will give you a kick in the a*** would have entirely different connotations (I abhor violence). You could step on cow’s hooves, for a change. Pedicure would be interesting, so would football. I am afraid Pike Aer would also be around in this kind of world with these kinds of feet, offering tattoos for hooves, feet-painting and all kinds of cushiony stuff to fix below the hoof to improve jumping power. It would also be good for insulation, and I think one could have reduced the problem of cold feet, wet socks and ensuing pneumonia and fever. Now I am a limp-shell, slightly slower, but still moving, hopefully.

bugged

As I sit and write and think, my attention is drawn to that bit of my shoulder which suddenly requests my left hand’s attention. Scratching does not really help, but at least one thinks one is taking some kind of counteraction. Little bumps appear on my skin, red, ugly, and after a good scratch, adorned with a drop of liquid. I feel unclean. I shower and change into different clothes and chuck my old ones in the wash. Bleach is my friend. I look for the little culprits under bed, on armchair, behind wardrobe, between the cracks on walls, floors, under my neighbour’s shoes, within the crevices of my mind, but there is no sign of them anywhere. Nada. The bites swell up a bit, then fade. Nothing that will kill me, but the thought of those little mandibles that certainly have never seen a mandible brush in their lifetime. Ever heard of sting brushes? Prick brushes? Exactly. I clean the whole room thoroughly, which takes me a whole daylight. I throw out my carpets, and boil the bedding, I read up on all kind of nasty and buy kill-it-all insecticide called Cobra: venom against anything that creeps, crawls, flies, buzzes, annoys, unnerves. I spray my only room, in anger. The stench could kill a mammoth, and will most likely have some radiation content and cause three different kinds of cancer. How dare they trouble my peace? How dare they come and take over my sanctuary, my foxhole? I alone pay the rent. I refuse to cohabitate with anything that draws my blood, does not speak to me, nor share my food (or, for that matter, and let us be precise, sharing for me is defined by my explicit or implicit consent, we are not talking about stealing). As I am reviewing the seal of my fridge, the thought of paranoia does cross my mind. I was loaded for bear but not this. If at least I could see them. They would be easier to exterminate. Fleas can be crushed if you have nails. Seeing them would also ease the decision whether the best solution is indeed, extermination, or rather, 112, or immediate flight. Something that you can name makes it already more harmless, and I could determine which illnesses the bugs in the specific case are vectors for and draw up an action plan. The indeterminateness of the situation drives me up the walls, but the culprits remain unfound. The invisible has become a priority in my life all of a sudden, and I consider moving house, even emigrating because of it. I must have been stung from the inside. Something wants out! But what is bugging me?

Next time you have nothing to do look up the etymology of bugger. I was surprised by the link with ‘Bulgar’, one of these Others who do not have the right religion, and hence, must be living in all kinds of sin.