It started with a barely discernible tremor in my right hand. I was reaching for my coffee cup and noticed my hand shaking. “Nerves,” I thought, “I have way too much stress in my life.”

I was 25 years old and had the world as my oyster. I had come off of a successful four year reign as a popular, vivacious university student, involved in campus activities, even pulling off a decent 3.4 grade point average despite having to pay my way through college by waitressing 15-20 hours a week and pulling a full-time class load. To top it off, I had interviewed with and received a job offer from a Fortune 500 company, a coveted opportunity straight out of college. The future was bright and promising and I embarked on early adulthood brimming with excitement.

It was two years into my career when the symptoms started. I had never really been sick; I was fit and active, only catching the occasional cold. Back then, I didn’t even have a primary care physician and hadn’t had a check-up since my initial physical for my assessment when I started my job. I had moved to a new city with my budding career and it hadn’t occurred to me that I might need a doctor some day. I was young and infallible.

I was managing a three state sales territory and traveling close to 80,000 miles a year by company car. My weekends were also frenetic; nights out with friends, running errands and catching up with work during the day, cramming in grueling workouts and runs. It was a hectic lifestyle and it was easy to shrug off a few odd symptoms as part of stress or lack of sleep.

A few months later, the tremor moved to my right foot. I noticed my foot trembling on the gas pedal as I was driving to a sales meeting out of town. The next day, I had to give a presentation to our entire district. As I confidently strode to the front of the room, a strange thing happened. Perspiration started pouring down my face and the back of my blouse beneath my blazer became damp. I felt my face get hot and flushed and I stumbled. I recovered and continued to the front of the room but it was the most uncomfortable and excruciating presentation I’ve ever given. I thought I was going to pass out, I was burning up, my hands were shaking and I was starting to have double-vision. It was with relief when I wrapped things up and handed the mic over to the next presenter. I mustered up as much poise as possible and walked sedately to the back of the room. My manager followed me to the ladies room.

She took one look at my face and almost called 911. We both thought I was having a heart attack. I was terrified and embarrassed. I don’t suffer weakness in myself very well and hate to be the center of attention when I am feeling vulnerable.  I begged her not to call for help and she helped me to my hotel room where we applied cold compresses to my forehead and wrists. To my horror, I noticed that my ankles and eyes were swelling and becoming puffy. I was experiencing severe edema.

I told her I was fine and said I would call her if I needed anything. I just wanted her to leave me alone. I finally got her to leave, reluctantly. I drew an ice-cold bath and soaked for what seemed like hours. I couldn’t seem to cool down and the swelling was so uncomfortable.

I should add that as a child I had a hyper-neurotic fear of doctors and hospitals. I dreaded shots and physicals so the thought of calling medical personnel at that moment was as horrifying as the physical symptoms I was experiencing. Instead, I soaked in the tub and refused to deal with what was happening, telling myself it was just some weird allergic reaction and it would all go away.

And go away it did. The swelling subsided, the tremors went away and I stopped feeling flushed…for about a month. Then it all came back with a vengeance.

This time I knew I couldn’t ignore it and went to the emergency room. When they told me it was an allergic reaction, I felt immense relief, “see, I knew it!” I told myself. They told me to take Benedryl and a few days off to rest and I’d be fine.

Life Lesson #1: Do not rely on the Emergency Room for your diagnosis when something bizarre is happening to you.

I messed around with multiple emergency room visits for almost a year before I finally made an appointment with a Primary Care Physician. At that point, I was having non-stop tremors, hot flashes and profuse sweating and I had put on over 65 pounds. I was also starting to lose my hair. My District Manager called me into his office and kindly but firmly insisted that I take time off and make a doctor’s appointment as he was concerned about my health.

I’ll never forget that meeting with that doctor. I was sitting in my gown, trembling uncontrollably, when the doctor walked into the examination room. She took one look at me, took in my swollen ankles, shaking hands, and damp, flushed face and said, “Amalie, I think you have been misdiagnosed in the past year. I believe you have thyroid disease. And we are going to make you better.”

I broke down and sobbed. Then something terrifying happened. The tremors started turning into jerks and I started convulsing. I had gone into a full-blown thyroid storm.

The next few hours are a blur. I woke up in a critical bed at the local hospital. I had heart and kidney complications and found out later that normal thyroid readings are between 4-7 and mine were around 38. They had me on beta blockers, steroids, and several other medications—I was popping pills every 2-3 hours. I was in a private critical room where they had to keep the temperature at 55 degrees because I was so overheated from my overactive thyroid that I was hypersensitive to heat.

I was diagnosed with a rare form of Graves’ Disease where a small percentage of people, primarily women, gain weight uncontrollably, even though it is hyperthyroidism. The diagnosis was only the beginning, and this story will take some time, and several posts, to unfold. This is not easy writing. The road to recovery was steep, rocky and frightening, and full of many potholes. God, I was so bloody scared back then. But I have the distance and the perspective to write about this now. And feel the relief to know it is over.

2 Responses to Tremors

  • Why call it Graves’ disease? I mean, if it was named after Peter Graves or something, fine. But let’s change it, because it’s too damned depressing. Hopeful Disease. There, I fixed it.

  • Currently there are three main treatments avblaiile for Graves’ Disease.Firstly, drug therapy with anti-thyroid drugs such as methimazole, or carbimazole (depending which country you are in). These reduce the amount of thyroid hormaone being produced.If drug treatment is not effective then there are two forms of ablation surgery, or more commonly radiation (which I think you were refering to).Radiation is given in the form of a small pill which contains a tiny amount of radioactive iodine. Any iodine in the body accumulates in the thyroid gland and so there is no risk of radiation in any other part of the body and the dose is very small. It takes some time to work (up to several months) but the radiation ablates the thyroid, reducing the high levels of thyroid hormone found in Graves’.Surgical techniques involve the removal of part of the thyroid gland, although this is usually the last treatment offered.I’m sure that his physician will be able to answer any questions about the procedure.I hope it all goes well!

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About Me

I kicked chronic illness in the teeth and lived to tell the tale. Now I blog about life and remember not to take it all so seriously. My intent is to be genuine and heartfelt about a variety of subjects. Welcome and thank you for joining me.

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