Bloodwork, Tests & Mystery Diagnoses

From unexpected test results to DIY poop transplants (yes, really), here’s what I’ve learned—and why I’m still holding onto hope (and my sense of humor).

The last two weeks have been a whirlwind of tests and information. I finally got my results from the functional medicine doctor, and they were enlightening, to say the least.

My test results were divided into three categories: Alarm, Normal Range, and Optimal Range. Thankfully, I had zero markers in the Alarm category (yay for small wins!), three markers above or below the Normal Range, and 23 above or below the Optimal Range. The most shocking revelation? My glucose levels were elevated. Given my family history of diabetes, this is a wake-up call. Time to course-correct before I end up on a first-name basis with my insulin injections.

Another big finding—one I already felt deep in my bones—was my thyroid. My levels were double what they should be, and my T3 wasn’t converting to T4. Classic traditional medicine failure—most conventional doctors (including mine) only seem to care about TSH. Other findings included deficiencies in key minerals and vitamins like potassium, magnesium, phosphorus, and iron. No glaring red flags, yet I still feel like roadkill.

Then came the sticker shock: the doctor’s recommended intensive treatment and supplements would cost $5,000…out of pocket, of course, since insurance doesn’t cover functional medicine. Just what I needed while the world is a dumpster fire and layoffs are happening left and right. I told her I needed time to think, and to her credit, she didn’t pressure me. She just said, “If and when you’re ready, we can begin.”

The very next day, I finally had my long-awaited rheumatologist appointment (six months in the making). She did an exam and confirmed my range of motion is basically trash. I was sent for foot X-rays, blood tests, and scheduled for an MRI of my spine. And then, the real kicker: she dismissed my interest in functional medicine and told me I’d likely need to start Enbrel. Her priority wasn’t my debilitating scalp psoriasis but preventing joint damage. Cue the waterworks. I cried the whole way home and collapsed into my husband’s arms, feeling utterly defeated. All my efforts suddenly seemed pointless. I wanted to drown my sorrows in vodka lemonades and an irresponsible amount of cookie dough. But I didn’t. I decided to wait for all the test results before making any major decisions.

Then came MRI day. Oh, LAWDY! This girl is claustrophobic, and I had a full-blown panic attack inside that tube of terror. It was the longest 30 minutes of my life. I was clenched and shaking like a leaf the entire time. I basically became my dog on the 4th of July.

The results? Shocking. No evidence of psoriatic arthritis in my spine. No blood work markers to support a psoriatic arthritis diagnosis. However, I do have an acute L5 fracture. Excuse me, what now? A fracture? But I’ve been in pain since March 2024. How does that even make sense? I’m now scheduled for a bone scan to rule out osteoporosis. Thanks to my disturbingly high pain tolerance and the slow-moving beast that is medical scheduling, I’ve been unknowingly dealing with pinched nerves then a spinal fracture for almost a year. Neato.

The silver lining? Thanks to my comprehensive blood panel, I did some digging to see if my markers supported an osteoporosis diagnosis. Of the eight relevant markers, only one was slightly elevated, the rest were optimal. That gives me hope that this isn’t osteoporosis but instead just me being clumsy, oblivious to injury, and one tough old bird.

The functional medicine doctor’s test results were worth every penny of the 39,900 I shelled out. (Sidebar: Are we going to have to change that to nickels now? See? Squirrel!)

I spent the next few days poring over the tests, researching what each one meant, and figuring out how to fix it all. My functional doctor’s top priorities? Blood sugar control and gut healing. If your gut isn’t healthy, your body can’t properly absorb supplements. So, I took matters into my own hands and ordered psoriasis-friendly supplements along with L-Glutamine, a probiotic, and Slippery Elm for gut restoration.

In the meantime, I also watched a couple of Netflix documentaries. You Are What You Eat: A Twin Experiment was fascinating—Stanford University studied identical twins, putting one on a vegan diet and the other on an omnivore diet. They ran extensive wellness tests and, while the documentary did veer into “meat is evil” territory, it was still worth the watch.

The second documentary, Hack Your Health: The Secrets of Your Gut, lulled me right to sleep. The next day, my sweet husband asked, “Were you awake for the whole thing?” Of course not. If I’m horizontal after 6 PM, I’m exclusively watching the backs of my eyelids. His smirk told me I had missed something juicy, so I rewatched it.

About halfway through, prepare yourself. A woman (who can only eat six foods) pulls a plastic container out of her fridge. Inside? Her boyfriend’s poop. Yes, you read that correctly. Poop. He makes a joke about the things you do for love, and then she liquifies it and puts it into capsules for a DIY fecal transplant. I was equal parts disgusted and riveted. Even wilder? She had previously done this with her brother’s feces and ended up developing his acne. She was now worried she might absorb her boyfriend’s anxiety. Apparently, this is backed by some research in mice:

“Transplantation studies using the gut microbiota from human twins discordant for obesity have shown that germ-free mice inoculated with microbiota from obese or lean human twins take on the microbiota characteristics of the donor. Those receiving the obese microbiota had an increase in adiposity, whereas those receiving the lean microbiota remained lean.”

Science is weird, y’all.

Naturally, I had to ask my husband, “Honey, do you love me enough to harvest your own poop and spend a day with me making capsules out of it?”

Spoiler alert: He said no.

A single tear rolled down my cheek. “My love for you is unconditional. If you needed my fecal material, I’d give you as much as you wanted. Willingly.”

I joke (because my humor is on par with a teenage boy’s), but WOW.

Wins:

• Still alcohol-free!

• Scalp itch is 80% better.

• Increased my thyroid meds and started eating 3 Brazil Nuts daily for T3 conversion.

• Kimchi (obsessed!)

• Sweet potato-stuffed buffalo chicken boats. Chef’s kiss.

• No psoriatic arthritis in my spine (might be able to dodge the biologic for now!)

• Actually eating my veggies before they rot in the crisper.

• Down 8 lbs and 9.95 inches overall!

Losses:

• Gluten-free pancakes. Disaster. Flat (…as a pancake—ha!) and gross.

• Back pain persists.

• Correcting T3 is way harder than TSH. Options vary wildly, and my doctor is hesitant to prescribe medication like Amour and NP Thyroid.

This journey is far from over, but at least I’m armed with information, a game plan, and a supportive husband (even if he draws the line at poop pills).

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