I started Prednisone on Sunday. My little Easter treat. I had hoped that the prescription would have been called in late on Friday, but tried not to hope too much. Because we knowing low expectations can be key.
I think the pharmacist was surprised by my utter joy - who wants to take a drug with this host of side effects? The answer in short is me.
I like bounding up my stairs. I like walking erect, like a real girl, instead of being hunched over in the morning. I like feeling my fingers and not just when they are zinging with sharp pain.
Look, I have feet. I can feel them.
Yes, yes, there has been some insomnia, but nothing outlandish. And I am eating my veggies and eating sparingly for I know this stuff can pack on the pounds. In fact, I have trying to lose pounds from Prednisone this year anyway. Every time I reached for a questionable item at the grocery store this week, I pictured my doctor, with his head in his hands, asking me to promise that I would be careful with my diet during treatment.
Shame is effective. I will see him again soon. I hate being in trouble.
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