An admission: I am all hopped up on steroids recently. No, not the performance-enhancing kind, unless there are some writing-enhancing steroids, which in that case I’ll cross the border in Mexico and bring back suitcases full of that shit. Yes, I’m on Prednisone. I had oral surgery last week; I really won’t go into gory details, except Prednisone and some low-grade painkillers and Amoxicillin were involved post-surgery. At any rate, I really hate that I’m on this crap right now.
My wife warned me that Prednisone would make me irritable. Oh, joy! As if I’m not already on the fucking knife edge of irritability! Now I’m on doses that will not only take me over the irritability edge, I’ll likely set up permanent camp there. Hoo-fucking-ray! For example, my job has me overworked and hyperfunctioning. And every time I get another e-mail about some request that I’m supposed to complete RIGHT NOW, I just want to pull this on my laptop:
But I can’t. I’m a professional. So instead I simply gnash my teeth and unfurl the worst kinds of obscenities possible. Good thing I work from home, where this kind of behavior is acceptable.
All kidding aside, that’s not the worst part of being on Prednisone. The worst part is the ravenous appetite. As in, I’m constantly hungry. All I want to do is eat like The Rock on one of his cheat days. Just last night, my wife and I ordered pizza from Papa John’s, which we never do, but since our daughter’s away at the grandparents, we figure, hey, let’s party!
Well, Jabba the Hutt here just about ate all but two slices of an extra-large pie. And then I was hungry a couple of hours later.
It’s not just hunger. It’s a craving for sweets. I stopped to buy cupcakes for my daughter’s party, and said to myself, “What the hell, I’ll treat myself to one.” No, not one. Two. Two big fat cupcakes. All this while being able to chew only from one side of my mouth.
I took my last dose this morning. But it stays in your system for about a month after the last dose. Great. Just my luck. By this time next month, I’ll be 30 pounds heavier, a diabetic, and prone to fits of HULK SMASH! moments.
At least all of that would make for a charming anecdote in my memoir.
Wait, I’m writing a memoir?