Well, it’s official. I’m finally a full-fledged member of my family. I now have a legitimate thyroid disease. It’s a mainstay trademark of the Payne family, at least on my mother’s side. You just can’t go very long without some sort of thyroid problem. But for me, it’s a particularly appropriate disease.

I have been diagnosed with something called Hashimoto’s Thyroiditis. It’s a great ailment for a scifi writer. Essentially, my body has decided that my thyroid is a foreign object. It has therefore seen fit to create anti-thyroid specific anti-bodies. These anti-bodies have been specially designed to carry out one order: kill the thyroid. And, I’m proud to say, they have been entirely successful. My thyroid has been utterly defeated! Yay anti-bodies! You’ve shown that thyroid menace that he doesn’t belong in my personal ecosystem. Let that be a lesson for any thyroid rebellion that may attempt an organized uprising in the future: you will be quelled.

Now, it’s on to a lifetime of thyroxine replacement drugs. This is in addition to my existing high-blood pressure medication (which was a result of the anti-thyroid anti-body infestation). Along with the horse pills I’ve been taking for my recent sinus infection, I scarcely feel 31 anymore (almost 32, I suppose). These are the degenerative symptoms of a 60-year-old. I’m beginning to already feel like a broken old man.

Of course, all told, as far as inherited genetic disorders go, thyroid problem is on the low end of the scary family medical history spectrum, right down there with sciatica and male-pattern baldness. I could have done worse. There’s very little by way of cancer or heart disease in my family, either side. And I have relatives on every branch of the family tree that have lived past 100. So, all in all, things are looking cheery for a long, productive life, which I’m sure makes all of my friends and family very happy, indeed.

Speaking of which, I’m sure you’re all very concerned about where I am in regards to my novel. I will update everyone shortly.