"Curiouser and curiouser!" Cried Alice.

And curious it is. As you know, (Bob) a month ago I had radioactive treatment to kill off my thyroid before it killed me via Graves' Disease. I had blood drawn last week so they could check if the thryoid was dead yet, (Jim). They called me yesterday and the conversation went something like this:

"Hello, is that Lizzy Shannon?"

"I think so," I said.

"Excuse me?"

"Yes, it's Lizzy Shannon."

"This is Dr. XXXXXXX's office with your thyroid results."

"Oh, good. Is it dead, yet?" I resisted adding "Jim".

"I'm happy to tell you your thyroid levels are normal and it's in perfect working order."

My mouth flapped fish-like for a few moments. "Are you sure they're my results?"

"Ms. Lizzy E. Shannon, right?"

"So, it's not dead?"

"What's not dead?"

"My thyroid."

"Why would it be dead?"

"Well, the radioactive treatment might be a clue there."

I heard the rustle of paper in the background. "We'll check your levels in a month."

"I'll hold off on the funeral, then."

She laughed nervously, said goodbye and hung up. I have to admit, I feel quite fine. No hyper-waves of ultra thyroid activity. How odd! Could being threatened and served with certain death actually shock my thyroid into behaving? Or is it dying slowly, dramatically, drawing it out like a bad Victorian melodrama? I guess we just wait and see.