At the beginning of the semester, I somehow mixed up my schedule for my seven week pre-algebra class and ended up in the Tuesday/Thursday class instead of the Monday/Wednesday class. The teacher invited me to stay since I had missed my first class, telling that she would cover the same things. By the end of the class I knew I wanted to stay in her class. She was a good teacher, and I connected with her. So I asked if I could join her class and she agreed. Due to the schools being closed from bad weather and things I was three classes in before the change actually went through, and it took those changes going through before I had access to papers I needed to print and homework online. But I finally got it all straightened out. Keep in mind that I hate math, I’ve always been terrible with it, and this class was no exception and I really struggled. Well we took our finals yesterday and all my grades finally came in. I passed the class with a “B” (86%) That is astounding to me. I never, not even in high school, did that well in a math class. I’m proud of myself. I hoped for a at least a “C”, so to be getting a “B” is amazing. My teacher was a great teacher. She really knew how to explain things, and she never made you feel like you were dumb if you couldn’t figure it out, she just sat down and figured it out with you. Having a good teacher definitely pays off.
Best play by play of a criminal in action. All crime videos should be done by Seattle sports announcers
Once I could walk from one side of town to the other without issue. I worked on my own car, I carried my children with ease. These days a simple task such as folding laundry can wear me down. Half way through the day I can feel exhausted and the only thing I’ve done is shower and cook a meal. I spend every day living with Graves` Disease. I don’t believe that most people realize that. I feel when they see me in my wheelchair or with my walker they judge me harshly. I notice the sideways glances and in some ways, I have grown used to them, but it is always in the back of my mind. I want to help them understand what it is like to live with the invisible Graves` Disease.
I was first diagnosed with Graves` Disease when I was 31 years old. For years I had been misdiagnosed with having bi-polar disorder and was told that it was the reason for my mood swings. At the time there was no Affordable Care Act, and I had no health insurance. My husband’s job did not provide dependent insurance and I was working in fast food which provided health insurance, but it was very expensive and not very good. Because of these factors I wasn’t seeing a doctor on a regular basis and went undiagnosed for a very long time. I was miserable and always complaining about various ailments, so much so that my husband regularly told me that he thought I was a hypochondriac. To hear my long list of complaints, I’m sure most people would have agreed with him. Even I questioned whether I was being over dramatic.
We were still living in our first little apartment. It was a one bedroom on the second floor of a small complex. I noticed that over time climbing the single flight of stairs to our apartment became more difficult instead of easier, this was very frustrating as I couldn’t understand why. I also couldn’t understand why I a 31-year-old female was losing hair? This made no sense to me. Hair loss only happened to men, or so I thought. I also noticed that any time I received a small wound such as a scratch it would take an unusually long time to heal. My hands constantly shook and were unsteady, something I originally attributed to drinking too much caffeine. I had trouble sleeping and I was either burning up hot or freezing cold. There was no middle ground. I had developed a goiter which is a large lump on the neck. I had lost a lot of weight, that was the one thing I was happy about. I had spent most of my life being chubby and somewhat over weight, so to finally be thin had me thrilled. However, the longest running symptom I dealt with were the emotional problems. The mood swings I had made me believe there was something horribly wrong with me. Sometimes at night I would lay awake for hours trying to figure out what was wrong with me. Why was I so depressed that I couldn’t get out of bed? This had been going on for so long, that I was desperate to get any kind of help. I no longer wanted to feel worthless. Put plainly, I was sick and tired of being sick and tired.
Read the rest of Living with Graves` Disease an Essay