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Trying to Make Peace with Prednisone

I’ve been on Prednisone for five days now, and the side effects are kicking in. My appetite has gone from zero to 100, and my moodiness is considerable.

Mood music:

But the drug is doing its work, easing my back pain from shooting, piercing spasms to a more manageable dull ache. Now I remember why they used to put me on this shit for Crohn’s Disease.

When it comes to putting the freeze on inflamed muscles and bone, it gets the job done.

Still, I wonder if the inflammation could have been dealt with using a different medication — something that won’t inflame my mood and puff up my face.

When the doctor said he was prescribing Prednisone, I let out a groan.

“What?” he asked, annoyed that I might be questioning his almighty judgement.

“Prednisone and I have a history,” I told him. “During the Crohn’s attacks …”

“But this is a low dosage, and it’s only for 14 days,” he said, using a tone one uses when addressing idiots.

This doctor is an arrogant bastard. I hope he knows what he’s doing. He’s a new doctor, so I won’t give up on him yet.

This back injury has been hard. I have to lie down and watch the world pass by, which isn’t how I prefer to operate. It’s been so bad that I’m willing to take my chances with a drug I said I’d never take again.

For now, I’m focusing on the positives:

  • It’s not the maximum dosage I used to take — eight pills a day in all.
  • It is only for another week or so. It used to take weeks just to be weaned off of it.
  • I’m hungry, but I haven’t fallen into any titanic binges yet.
  • I can sit up, lie down and stand up again, which I couldn’t do a week ago.

But still I worry. I will until this prescription’s time is up.

Stay tuned.

Red skull and crossbones on a patch of white pills

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A Back-Breaking Plot Twist

Awhile back, I wrote about learning to roll with the unexpected punches life hurls at you. I called those occasions plot twists. Yesterday I got one hell of a plot twist, and at first I had trouble following my own advice.

Mood music:

The back injury I wrote about yesterday is much worse than I thought. I went to the chiropractor, figuring he’d fix me and I’d be on my way, even though I’d reached the point where I couldn’t do anything without waves of agony coursing through me. After trying to get me to lift my feet and get off the table unassisted, the chiropractor — who loathes the idea of people taking pain killers for their back — ordered me to do just that.

I went to my primary care doctor, who confirmed the extent of my injury and put me on Vicodin, Flexeril and my old enemy, Prednisone. (Expect a follow-up post on how I deal with being back on that drug, which I like to refer to as Satan’s Tic Tacs.)

Now I have to spend the next several days on the couch, except for daily visits to the chiropractor. My family has to pick up all the tasks I usually do, which I find upsetting. I had to postpone some video shoots at work that I’ve been throwing my soul into preparing. The week isn’t going to go as planned.

So how do I deal with this plot twist?

My wife and boss made the first party easy for me. They both ordered me to scrub work for the week, and assured me that postponing my project wasn’t the end of the world.

The drugs are already helping in that I can be a bit more comfortable, even if I hate taking them.

And I’m getting a lot of kind words from friends and family, which always lifts the spirits.

So I’m going away for a few days. But I’ll be back, in full force.

Be good to yourselves and each other while I’m on the sidelines.

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My Crohn’s Disease Is Doing Push-Ups

Recovering addicts have a saying: “My disease is doing push-ups in the parking lot.” The meaning is that you can be years into sobriety, but you’re never cured. The disease is ready to beat you down as soon as your guard slips.

I’ve learned that Crohn’s Disease does the same thing.

Mood music:

[spotify:track:6nDqFWB9MtQ9rTjmm3gDAD]

As violent and damaging as my childhood Crohn’s Disease was, I haven’t had a full-blown attack since 1986. It would be easy to grow complacent and consider myself cured, but the disease sends me the occasional sign that it’s still there.

From the Resources section: Websites for dealing with Crohn’s Disease

What would otherwise be a minor stomach bug turns into full-blown inflammation. Not an attack with the blood, aching joints and an abdomen that feels like it’s on fire, but one that leaves me feeling bloated and off-balance, dogged by a dull soreness in the middle and sudden urges to make a bathroom run. I’m not sure urges is the best word, either. It’s a rushing discomfort that comes on suddenly.

I started feeling it yesterday, and it helped ensure a lousy night’s sleep.

I’ve been asked if I fear another full-blown attack like those that left me hospitalized and jacked up on Prednisone as a kid. I’m not.

I know I’m not cured, so I expect that one of these days, another attack will materialize. I’d rather it didn’t, of course. But I’ve developed a stoic attitude about it. If it comes, I’ll deal with it. I’ll accept the treatment and do what I must to shut it down, even if it means taking Prednisone — a drug I still blame for unleashing the chemical imbalance in my brain that has led to OCD, bouts of depression and a history of binge eating. I figure the drug can’t do much more to me on that score, though it would certainly give me a temporary bad attitude.

In a way, the little bouts of inflammation like the one I have now are a gift. They keep me aware of the disease that lives inside of me and what it can really do to me.

And they remind me to take care.

Inflamed Intestines