My autoimmune disease came on slowly, and then all at once.
In early 2014, I began to lose weight. I was exhausted and thirsty all the time, peed constantly, woke up frequently with epic muscle cramps. I had to buy new clothes because the ones I owned no longer fit. It briefly occurred to me that I should find these developments troubling. I committed to eating more. Then I went back to my life.
Eventually, a cold I couldn’t shake sent me to my doctor, and I casually mentioned my other symptoms. He suggested a blood test. A week later, as I was about to conduct an interview in front of a sizable crowd, I received an urgent message from my doctor. I excused myself, stepped outside, and called his office back. A nurse read me the results. She said they were off the charts and that I should come in immediately. I asked if it was okay to still conduct the interview. She sighed, then said to come in the morning, no excuses. I went back inside and got through the interview, apparently. I remember none of it. All I recall is the panic.
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