Seven Days of Prednisone

Today marks a week since my anaphylactic episode. I’ve been on round the clock benedryl and prednisone for 7 days, and I have to keep doing that until Tuesday. Luckily, I’m getting used to the weird side effects. Like, random muscle pain that makes me scream “MY LEGS!” or uncontrollable swinging of my limbs (thank you to my friends and coworkers who are kind of enough to grab hold of said swinging limbs and steady them). Or, you know, crying over things like dropping a paper towel roll, getting stuck in traffic, reading a long email, or having to carry grocery bags out of my car. And totally forgetting where I am and what I’m doing – especially when driving and thinking “Hey, I wonder why all the cars on the other side stopped moving. Wait. Where am I? I AM IN A CAR! THE LIGHT IS RED! I HAVE TO GET OUT OF THE INTERSECTION!”

Why do I forget that I can’t drive on prednisone? Maybe because prednisone makes me forget things.

I have utterly no clue how to sleep anymore. My body wants to, it’s all like “oh, sleep sounds cool” but then it just won’t. Or I sleep and I wake up like an hour later thinking the whole world is different, forget where I am, why I’d been sleeping, and how to fall back asleep.

All that said, I think I’m pretty high functioning for the amount of medicine in me. I wrote a bunch of a script, I cooked an entire shabbat meal, I went to Disneyland (though I had to get off Tower of Terror, because my throat started swelling as I buckled in, and I thought that if god forbid I needed an epipen while on Tower of Terror, it might be the most dangerous thing ever. Or, as my friend S put it “your epipen would fly in the air, land on some random Disney person and they’d get sick and you’d die on the ride.” For the record, I once rode Tower of Terror 9 times in a row and orchestrated a timed photo for the car, so no, rude Disneyland patrons, I did not have a panic attack. I was not scared of the ride. I was scared of anaphylaxis on a ride).

I bought a stuffed fox to feel better. I named him anaFOXlaxis because I’m supremely clever. I don’t know why a stuffed animal fixes things, but this fox totally does. S was nice enough to drive way out of our way to go to a hallmark store to get one (fyi: target sells bad stuffed animals). And, the fox is made by some company that specializes in stuffed animals that come with books to help people cope with hard things. Good job, fox. I think everyone should get a happiness fox. It’s like a seeing eye dog but you don’t have to take care of it.

Anyway, this post is probably very incoherent. But, my hope is that if you’re googling “why are my limbs swinging prednisone” you’ll find this post and be like, “Oh, I’m not alone, I shouldn’t drive, and I should buy a stuffed fox.”

Is it Tuesday yet?

AnaFOXlaxis, aka Foxy Brown

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