Hear ye! Hear ye! How Dr. Hillary Heard My Hypothyroid
Last month, my hair starting falling out. In the course of a week, one big clump of hair was separating, strand by strand, from my forehead until all that was left was a patch of empty. Random strands of hair, from other parts of my head, had been detaching for more than a year. I created art with them on the walls of the shower and swept them up from the floors of my carriage house where they would float to land. I thought nothing of it, until now.
“I think it’s your thyroid. Come to the clinic on Wednesday.” Dr. Hillary Glenn, DNP, said when I pointed to my balding scalp during Down Dog at Laura Bailey’s yoga class in Blue Mountain. “My thyroid?” I googled the word to discover what I should already know. The thyroid is the metabolizing agent for your body. If Dr. Hillary was right, it would explain the fatigue of the last few years, the inches growing around my waist, the moments of memory loss, and now…the land of no hair.
The clinic Dr. Hillary spoke of is the Point Washington Medical Clinic, founded by Dr’s. Hillary Glenn and Patsy Vargo at the Point Washington Church. It’s open every Wednesday from 7:30AM to 1:30PM and available to all, including uninsured people like me. The two doctors devote one day every week and the church donates the space and resources to those in need. The blood work proved Dr. Hillary’s instincts right. I have hypothyroidism. “How did you know? Can you hear it? Did it speak to you?” I asked her, half joking. “I see up to 60 patients a day in my practice. It’s strange, but I can often sense their pain in my own body when they walk in the door. Of course, I conduct a clinical exam, then it’s up to the lab work to prove me right.” Dr. Hillary wasn’t joking. Her instincts did hear my thyroid singing for help, despite the fact that my ignorance had silenced it.
Six weeks into the discovery of my condition, I’m finding what it is to feel alive energetic again with the help of a pig. Actually, a desiccated pig. Desiccated means “dried out,” and, in this case, it’s the dried out and pulverized thyroid of a pig that is condensed into a tiny little pill that somehow gives my body what it needs. I am not oinking, but I do feel funny, as in ha-ha happy and growing back into my young hyper-self instead of the old hypo-lady that had wielded her weapon upon me. Thanks to Dr. Hillary, Dr. Vargo and the volunteers at Point Washington volume my throat chakra is finally being heard. I wonder, as it heals, what it will have to say. Y’all listen…