Post #49.9: I brake for fake crab

 

You win this round supermarket sushi....

Yesterday, I was paying bills and shopping and going to appointments and going to the bank and getting gas (for my car, I feel like I have to specify on this blog) and being social and returning phone calls and writing emails and giving advice and NOT napping and making plans and doing laundry and laughing and buying presents and EATING ALL OF THE THINGS.

I had a great three days on steroids, and I got a little cocky.

A lot of carbonated beverages, supermarket sushi, chocolate sorbet, deli salad, and almonds later, I paid for my hubris. You know that stupid saying "a moment on the lips, a lifetime on the hips?" I believe the Crohn's version of that ditty is "a moment on the lips, a lot of bathroom trips!" Or, more accurately, a lot of painful uncomfortable bathroom trips wondering WHY DID I NEED TO PUNISH MYSELF WITH  BY EATING _____________(insert offending food of choice here)!?

As I shuttled between bathrooms (variety is the spice of life) this morning, trying to take deep soothing breaths as my bowels twisted and snapped like virile rubber bands, I pondered this very question. On the haunted toilet* I lamented the fish stew I ate out at a restaurant. In the vindictive spider powder room** I bemoaned the waffles that seemed like such a good idea the morning before.

I was looking at my steroids, and the ensuing regularity, like a vacation from Crohn's. I deserved a break! And on vacation, who sticks to white bread and Gatorade?

I felt normal. I had energy (granted, a little too much energy, but who would compain about that!? I was getting shit done). I had the time and mental clarity to do the things I enjoy, and those things include eating. I remember thinking to myself, this is how it should be-this is what I am working towards. This is what I hope is possible again. I thought that this little interlude would give me the inspiration, the motivation, to stick with the new medication through all of the terrible side effects, in the hopes of getting to this place without steroids.

And this morning, it all came crashing down, in a most painful, explosive fashion, and I was left exhausted. Did I just ruin steroids for myself? I am such a moron. To explain how I got to this place, and how I may or may not have broken the steroid's magical ability to tame my AAC, let me try to explain how it feels when the steroids work.

Imagine that you've been sick for a month or two. You have no energy. You spend your days sleeping, eating things that are beige, and watching the new crop of daytime talk shows that are jostling to replace Oprah (I'm looking at you Marie, Ricki, and Katie, not to mention Anderson, Jeff Probst (??), and Nate. Side note: Katie Couric is a serial blinker. It's seriously exhausting and distracting to watch those eyelids fly. Someone get that chick some drops!). There is pain, nausea, and fatigue. There is considerable time spent in the bathroom. Early in the day, you are spent. Sometimes you're dizzy and your muscles quake, and you feel breathless. There is dehydration and heartburn and some super fun medication side effects that make you feel bloated and sweaty and wrong.

That's about right. Replace beer cans with pill bottles and add a sports bra.

THEN. Oh, then. You take a handful of the good stuff:

A spoonful of steroids make the Crohn's calm right down, oh, the Crohn's calm right down, the Crohn's calm right down....

And suddenly, it's like someone shoved a spark plug up your ass and you turn into this:


I can run on the beach! My quads have DEFINITION. I CAN EAT ALL THE THINGS!

If you've been miserable for long enough, your brain can be excused for wanting to jump on the GOOD HEALTH NOW, COME AND ENJOY IT! band wagon, even if a small part of you knows the medicine might be making false promises.

If you think that I'm overstating the change-from Homer to bouncy chick in a matter of days-that's really what it's like. It's overwhelmingly deceptive. Every part of you wants to believe that the preceding days (ok, months) were a bad dream, and you've finally been restored and rebooted. Every part of you wants to use these days, enjoy them, because steroids are a limited time only hall pass from the crap that is waiting for you back in real life.

So I guess the point of this post, if there is one, is that today was a bad day, and I both blame myself for making it that way and understand why I did.


*it makes haunted noises when you flush
**a medium sized spider has been doing gross spider laps around the edges of the ceiling but comes to stand over me when I need to do my business, thus making me fearful that he will drop directly on my head and causing awkward pants-half-mast crab walks to the haunted toilet (not to be confused with the passive aggressive spider who used to live in the mailbox)