Five weeks ago, I was diagnosed with severe hypothyroidism.

It wasn’t unexpected. Six months earlier, I’d had radioactive iodine treatment (RAI) for an overactive thyroid, fully aware that this might be the eventual outcome. Around 70–80% of people who have RAI develop hypothyroidism within 6–12 months. For some reason, I always believe I’ll buck the trend.

What was unexpected was how well I felt.

Yes, I’d noticed changes. Weight gain. Feeling the cold more. A growing intolerance for exercise. But I wasn’t flattened by fatigue, which is often one of the hallmark symptoms.

And yet, my blood results told a different story.

For those familiar with thyroid numbers, my TSH was over 100. That tends to get people’s attention. Fortunately, this included my endocrinologist and my GP.

As soon as the results landed, things moved quickly. I received a hospital appointment for the following week, and my GP rang me. He sounded a little surprised that I was still functioning and prescribed thyroxine immediately.

I started the medication the next day. A tablet I’ll now take for life.

I felt enormously grateful that I’d managed to complete and submit my dissertation before my thyroid fully staged its rebellion.

The Fascinating Endocrinology Appointment

The following week, I saw my endocrinologist.

He brought a registrar into the consultation and asked her to examine me –  hands, thyroid, heart, then talk through what she thought was going on.

I found it fascinating. Not because the information was new, but because she was being encouraged to take a holistic view of both her findings and my medical history. So much of modern medicine can feel compartmentalised: one condition here, another there, different specialists managing different body parts.

But this was different. With a little prompting, she began to connect the dots.

• My arthritic fingers caused by psoriatic arthritis.
• My previous open-heart surgery to replace my calcified aortic valve? Damage linked to the same autoimmune condition.
• My Graves’ disease? Another autoimmune development. One autoimmune condition can increase your risk of others.

None of this was new information to me, but watching someone piece the whole picture together was unexpectedly reassuring.

The Symptom that Changed the Plan

When my endocrinologist asked about symptoms, I started with the puffy eyes. He immediately said he could see a difference from my previous appointment.

Then came the weight gain. And the exercise intolerance. I told him that I’d run a half marathon in October, but right now I’d struggle with a 5k.

His response was swift: “Let’s double your thyroxine.”

It’s not unusual during medical appointments to feel unseen, reduced to a condition rather than recognised as a whole person. And I think age can amplify that.

Whether consciously or not, many of us begin to absorb society’s assumptions about ageing: that slowing down is inevitable, that physical decline should be expected, that certain ambitions somehow become less valid.

Whether my endocrinologist was surprised by the 67-year-old woman in front of him frustrated that she could no longer contemplate 13 miles, I don’t know.

But in that moment, I felt seen. And I felt hopeful that recovery was in sight.

Recovery isn’t Linear

The frustrating thing about hypothyroidism is how tangled everything becomes: 

• The slowed metabolism contributes to weight gain.
• Weight gain makes movement harder.
• Reduced fitness makes confidence wobble.

And before long, it becomes difficult to know what’s thyroid, what’s circumstance, and what’s simply life.

For me, it wasn’t just hypothyroidism: 

• There was post-half-marathon recovery.
• Winter weather.
• Months of dissertation writing.
• Feeling cold.
• A lower resting heart rate.

Finally, everything aligned. I was ill but it was recoverable.

Resetting the Goalposts

I had signed up for the Derby Half Marathon at the end of June. That’s no longer realistic. A few weeks ago, I might have viewed that as failure. Now I see it as adaptation. I need to be patient while the medication supports my recovery.

Instead, I’m focusing on a different challenge: another stretch of the South West Coast Path in September, including eight miles classified as ‘severe’. And I still have ambitions for another HYROX event later this year.

It’s now getting on for five years since I developed Graves’ disease. I recovered. I relapsed. I chose a ‘permanent’ solution for my overactive thyroid. And now I’m adjusting to a lifetime on replacement medication.

This disease has affected me physically, mentally, and emotionally. It is an awful condition. But hopefully, I’m now on the right path to reclaim my health. And ready to start writing the next chapter.