127 days ago, I stared at that button for 20 minutes.
'Whatever doesn't work, I'm the only one who falls for it again. I can't survive another disappointment.
My weight had climbed 38 pounds on levothyroxine. My face didn't look like my face. My endocrinologist had the Ozempic referral out at every appointment for two years.'
But I also thought: I can't keep going like this.
So I clicked. Hands shaking. Distinctly certain I was making a mistake.
Day 7, my face in the mirror looked different. The puffiness that had been there every morning for two years was lighter. I took a photo and compared it to one from the week before. I checked three times.
Week six. Put on a fitted top I hadn't worn in two years. Walked past the bedroom mirror and stopped. Stood there for thirty seconds just... standing there. Texted my sister: 'I just put on the green top.' She knew exactly what that meant.
Twelve weeks. Full labs. Free T3 in the upper third of the range on the same levothyroxine I had been taking for six years. TPO antibodies dropping. Down 19 pounds without changing a single thing I ate. My endocrinologist looked at the panel. Then at me. Then at the panel. 'Whatever you changed — keep doing it. I'm not writing the Ozempic referral today.'
It's the small things that get me. Not dreading the mirror every morning. Not scheduling my wardrobe around what hides the belly. Not managing three separate symptoms that were always one drainage failure.
I don't know where you are right now. Maybe the same tunnel I felt. Maybe you're thinking 'she got lucky, but it won't work for me.'
I thought that too.
127 days ago I clicked that button. Today I'm living a life I forgot I could have.
Whatever you decide, I'm waiting for you.
— Sarah