pwndcake

I do not like prednisone. Word has not gotten back to me yet on how prednisone feels about me, but I think it's grown pretty attached. Whenever there is talk of cutting back our time together, or I make small steps to "give us both our space," it lashes out with wild mood swings and irrational behavior. It will probably update its pharmaceutical-livejournal to let its medicinal friends know about the relationship its having with one of the people whose blood stream it's inhabiting.

Prednisone is fucking crazy.

Not that there aren't good times. I can't say prednisone doesn't make me happy. It does, for about 5 minutes, until I switch over to anxious, or depressed, or angry, or confused. Every hour is an adventure when you roll with prednisone. Which is great because there are so many more of them. Prednisone also robs me of my ability to sleep as it fills my bloodstream with adrenaline, and my head with all sorts of minor obsessions. There is nothing as fun as being paranoid and sleepless.

There is really an upside. The effect on my physical health has been amazing. No more swelling limbs, or joint pains, or inexplicable rash. Being able to get out of bed without pain is almost worth spending 8 hours of the day out of my mind. For now, anyway. It's only been 2 weeks and I'm already praying I can stop taking the crazy pills soon. The idea that I may have to feel this way for months more is... upsetting.

Ahh, the Wheel o' Feeling has landed on numb. Now this is more like it.