The Note

He passed me a note. It read, “Why are you shaking?”

I carefully wrote one word. “T H Y R O I D.”

He nodded his head, but I doubt he believed me; no one does, not even me.

I’ve always shaken, even before I knew that’s what it was. I would shake if I had to read aloud in class or if someone picked me to be ‘it’ in heads up. I thought it was nervousness – my body shaking like a leaf as they say, but more like a forgotten flag during a hurricane.  My body would betray me, telegraphing my insecurities to those around me; for even when I thought I was completely at ease I would shake. I came to believe my body knew best and I was always nervous.

I wasn't! At a recent blood screening, my doctor discovered I have an over-active thyroid. My body makes too much cortisol; my adrenal glands don’t work normally. My voice shakes when I speak, my legs shake when I stand, even my stomach shakes – vibrating so hard sometimes I lose my lunch – and all because of my thyroid.

People never believe me. They’ll say now they thought I was too timid to stand in front of people, afraid of doing or saying the wrong thing – and for years I thought that, too. I thought I really MUST be timid – even though I don’t feel that way on the inside, I thought my body was telling me not to stand up and speak, not to try for that solo.

And then my hands started to shake during regular chores – like holding a cup of coffee, or writing checks. My handwriting began to deteriorate rapidly, but it wasn't until my makeup became too difficult to apply that I sought help. So, now I try to laugh at it – as I try to put on my lipstick and it shoots across my face or I draw zigzagged lines under my eyes with the liner.

“Yes, I’m not kidding.” I tell him later, “I’m not shaking because I’m excited to see you – honest. It’s my thyroid.” But he just smiles. I’m sure he thinks it’s cute, somehow, this nervousness I exhibit whenever we're together.