I wrote about him before, singing my song of impatience with he that causes the impatience, being angry with he that causes the anger. Yes, my old nemesis, the Prednisone Demon.
He has been in my life for six years now, sometimes being a strong influence and at times, just sitting in the background, waiting. Waiting for the day when his power is increased and he can act again. Taking control of my emotions.
It’s been a while since he was here. He is always here, but its a while since he really started to act up. That’s because I have been at a constant 10mg for the past two years. So he’s been quiet.
In the past few months though, I started taking a prednisone inhaler. Two puffs, twice a day. And now he’s happy, this angel of mercy, helping to keep my breathing issues at bay. But he is double-faced. He smiles with the ease of my symptoms, in his smug way, but he doesn’t do anything for free.
He takes my sleep in exchange. He waits until I rest my head on my pillow, and then he holds my eyes open, depriving me of sleep. He yanks it from me and laughs as he watches me struggle to stay awake during the day. That’s when he pushes it back on me. When I can’t take it from him. He grins wickedly at this play with me. I feel it. I know it.
Then during the day, He digs deep into the pit of my stomach and stabs it with his steely fork of hunger, creating a hunger pain so powerful that if I don’t satisfy it, he gets angry. And he plays with my brain, taking his spoon of emotional mayhem and stirring. Stirring up annoyances. Igniting emotions that have no reasoning. Making me think things I would normally never.
And so I seek out his favorite food. Carbs. Oh does he love carbs. Nothing makes him happier. I offer him fruit, a salad, something that would not let me put on weight. But he wants no part of that. He watches me swallow the leafy greens as I hope to satisfy him, but he grins and waits. He waits for me to realize that the only thing that would make him happy is a roll. A warm delicious bread roll. That’s what he wants. And I feel his joy as I take that first bite and barely chew on the soft exquisite texture of bread. Then he is happy. And when he’s happy, only then will he relax and stop stirring his pot of emotions in my soul. I can breathe again. I can feel the anger descend from my head, releasing that feeling as if my brains are about to burst out of my skull. The pressure relieved. I sigh. He descends into the pot of my soul and disappears. He sleeps and I am me again. For now.
But as much as I hate him, I need him. I am addicted to him. I tried on four separate occasions to get him out of my life. But no. He holds on. His influence is so strong on my body that now my body won’t make its own prednisone. He laughs at the irony of it and he laughs at me in my face every day as I swallow those two little pills. He has such disdain for me that he makes sure that I am going to taste his bitterness as I swallow them. Not even the sweet nectar of pineapple juice can disguise the taste in my mouth. But I have out smarted him over time. Now I place the pills beneath my tongue and quickly wash them down with a yogurt drink. He has no time to react, to release his bitterness. He is quickly washed away as the thick, milky drink instantly coats my taste buds and I have no evidence of him. And now he descends to my stomach to perform his daily duty. And I have won the battle for now. He will get his revenge on me though. The minute he stabs his fork into the pit of my stomach again, and we dance that dance we have done together for so many years.
Originally Posted September 26, 2012
Update: Seven years later and I am still on prednisone. Now I am at 5mg so he is quiet, not raising his mischievous head as often as before. But he is still there.