Today I saw a neurologist for something that began in June of last year. In the morning I begin an aggressive 5-week round of Prednisone. A few of the common side affects: jitteriness, sleeplessness, and weight gain.
It has been a hard day. I don’t feel like going into what I’ve been dealing with for nine months (at least), or what might be wrong with me, and what the lifelong effects might be, nor the tests and medications that might be ahead.
The doctor wanted to put me on temporary disability because she said the treatment will make me sick. I declined, for now. I am a freelance designer, work from home, and have the luxury of taking a nap, if need be (and I love what I do). If I become truly debilitated, I will deal with it down the road. To counteract the weight gain, she offered to put me on a stimulant to suppress my appetite. I declined the stimulant as well. One prescription drug is too much for me.
I will admit though, that for the two meals I did eat today, I took a vacation from my diet plan. It wasn’t about resolve as much as it was about feeling overwhelmed and choosing to give myself a bit of grace. Tomorrow I will return to the plan and try to counteract the drugs as best I can. And if I gain some weight for a while—or just maintain my current weight loss, but save my vision and start to feel better, well, it seems like a fair trade.
I am trying to maintain my optimism and focus on what has been ruled out (even scarier than what might actually be wrong). I saw the results of the MRI they conducted in July of last year—the one they said was “normal.” Ah… “normal.” Apparently, it is a relative term.
The good news: the doctor was brilliant, positive, thorough, was with me for about 90 minutes, printed everything out that she had explained to me, and gave me a hotline if anything changes for the worse. Confidence in one’s doctor is a good thing.
So, my grand design to reclaim my health and lose weight, has a bit of a detour. It’s always something, isn’t it?