Corn Chex & Elvis
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Once upon a time, there was a young lady who was invincible. She had her health, her looks and her mind. She would dance and laugh and sneak away to all-night frat keggers until dawn. Oops - wrong story. Anyway, this young lady soon grew into her role as a young wife and shortly after, a young mother. She could leap piles of laundry in a single bound, shoo away door-to-door salesman without a blink of an eye and tenderly kiss a tiny skinned knee with the best of them. Nothing slowed "Super Mommy" down - nothing. That is, until she started tripping over the piles of laundry, helplessly purchasing door-to-door goods and finally - being out of band-aids at the most crucial moment. Super Mommy had begun to slow down..... I knew something was not right after my third daughter was born. The hot flashes were much more severe, I voluntarily stayed awake after the 3am feeding and I didn't have that peaceful maternal glow - I resembled the glow you get after eating 10 straight bowls of sugar. I had an over-active thyroid. The thermostat couldn't be turned down. Not only did I feel as if the temperature was constantly 99 degrees inside, but I was either EXTREMELY happy to see you or I couldn't stand the sight of you. Or, if you're really lucky - it was a little bit of both. "Hi Kay, I missed you SOOO much! You're like, my best friend in the entire world! Isn't the grass SO green?! Corn Chex is my favorite cereal. Did I mention I love life?!!" I would ramble with wide, bright eyes and a cheesy chin to chin grin. Of course, Kay would cautiously smile at my warm salutation. "Why yes, Wendy - I love Corn Chex too." Kay started to slowly back up. "Now, I think I have to leave. I believe Elvis is calling me." That's about the time the thyroid woke up and decided it just hadn't toyed with me enough today. "What do you mean Elvis ate all of my Corn Chex?! How could you let him do that?! The 3 of us clearly discussed that we would only eat Corn Chex together! We would only eat Corn Chex together, I say!!" As my thyroid snickered, I could hear it chalking up another victory. Thyroid - 1, Corn Chex - 0. At work, I rigged the thermostat so that I was the sole keeper of the secret code to the air conditioning. While I was sweating buckets under the air vents bursting with freezing cold air, co-workers would dive for their winter coats. Enough was enough - I had to get my over-active thyroid fixed. My specialist recommended radiating the thyroid to rid me of it's cruel jokes forever. I felt my thyroid shudder and crawl into a corner to hide. Poor little guy. Maybe I shouldn't dispose of my little friend - maybe we would could live in harmony. And about that moment, I started hysterically yelling at my doctor about Corn Chex. That settles it - the little bugger comes out tomorrow before I change my mind! The next morning I showed up for my radiation treatment and was hardly at all nervous. That is, until a man in a full lead apron wheeling a long, high cart rolled in front of me. He carefully donned a face mask and large gloves that covered his entire forearms and reached up to the lead apron. Slowly, he uncovered my entree - a vial of radiation. He used large METAl tongs to pull the vial out of the lead chamber it was housed in and set the radioactive iodine solution in front of me. He turned very slowly towards me and said with a smile, "Bottoms up." Who was he kidding? Drink that stuff? He wouldn't touch it for his life and he wanted me to digest this gunk. No way - no how. I don't want to glow in the dark. Then I hollered something about Elvis eating Corn Chex and felt my naughty little thyroid scamper to hide. That's it. I will not bow down to this thyroid. I am the leader. I will drink the solution. And I did. And the thyroid was destroyed. My thyroid was never heard from again. Sometimes I miss the little squirt and think about the fun things we did. I often drift away in daydreams thinking about the times we shared. We would go to the park together, we saw movies that made us laugh and cry and we would go to the ballgames just to make fun of the team with the shorter bat boy. Oh - the times we had together. I'm over my absent thyroid now, but I still can't look at Corn Chex without thinking of Elvis munching on a big bowl of cereal.
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