This is not my typical post, but this blog is founded in real life. This is mine right now.
The moment the acrid taste of my nemesis hit my tongue, it all came flooding back. There they were - the memories of year and a half of my worst times in life; all at the front of my mind in an instant. I have avoided this moment for a year, but at my doctor’s urging can do so no longer. I've been promised that I won’t be on it as long or at such a high dose, but I don’t really care. Like a toddler who wants his way, I want mine. And my way does not involve this drug that seems to so easily wreak havoc inside my body. I can spot a prednisone user from a mile away, face growing wider by the day and reddish from the hot flashes with extra weight in all the wrong places. For me, this drug historically carries with it a pounding heart, high blood pressure, kidney stones and other undesirable side effects. All I can do is grit my teeth and bear it and hope that with all its ugliness, there is a part of me that needs this awful foe, an illness that will undoubtedly be healed by finally breaking down and agreeing to it. Things do seem slightly better already; I hope it’s more than wishful thinking on day three. I’ll take two weeks of hell for five more symptom-less ulcerative colitis years any day.