An Emotional Rollercoaster

A detailed Summary of An Emotional Rollercoaster

In September of 1998, my father approached me outside of our home and told me that he believed that I had a thyroid disorder.

"Something's wrong with my thigh?" is one of the first things that I asked him.

He answered no to the question and went on to explain why he thought I had a thyroid disorder. I thought that having a thyroid disorder wasn't going to be that bad, and that I would just be a little different from everyone else, but I was very wrong.

When my dad told me about Graves Disease, I was very scared at what it involved. He said that one of his close friend's daughter had the disorder, and he knew for sure that is what I had. My parents took me to my pediatrician the following morning and told him why they thought I had a thyroid disorder. He then sent me down the hall to a lab, where Penny Moore drew blood. One week later, after my parents found out I had high 'TH' levels, they took me to an endocrinologist in Shreveport, Louisiana. When we got there he took me into a room by myself and explained what was wrong with me.

He said, "Kimberly, the reason why you have been so sick lately is because you have a condition that involves hyper-thyroids. This explains why you const

"Kimberly, I assure you that you will come out of that surgery just fine. You have nothing to worry about. You have professionals taking care of you." My mother told me almost in tears.

"No sir. But I would like to hear the rest of this song before I go to sleep. It's the song that was on Dr. Dolittle and sounds like it has a baby crying in it."

When I returned to school the following week, my doctor had an over-the-phone conference with my eighth grade teachers, principal, and my parents all together. All but one teacher understood that Graves Disease caused an imbalance in my brain. The teacher said that he believed I was not sick. We told him about my symptoms, and he had another conference with Dr. McVie. Mr. Copes told the doctor that he still didn't believe it. Dr. McVie told me, in October, that I could no longer twirl for the remainder of my eighth grade year.

On December 23, I was finally discharged from the hospital. On the way home I convinced my Nana and mom to stop by the restaurant, Posados, so I could eat 'real food.'

"Kim, what's wrong with you?" my mother asked.

He assured me that I wouldn't if I took the medicine he was going to prescribe me correctly, and followed all of his directions. He later told me that if we would have spotted it any later, that I could have had a heart attack at the age of thirteen. He prescribed the medicine, Synthroid, to me, and said that I would need to have my thyroid removed by radioactive iodine or surgery. That's when we were faced with the challenges.

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Approximate Word count = 1252
Approximate Pages = 5 (250 words per page double spaced)

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