STEROID SADNESS

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I’ve got only one more day of steroid treatment. In pill form. I still have to use an inhaler. My GP is monitoring me. I have to take two puffs, twice a day, with a new inhaler, which has a higher dose of steroid than my “as needed” one. It hasn’t been this bad since 1992, when my daughter and I had an apartment right around the corner from where I’m presently living, but the steroids do take away the deep wheezing and desperate breathing. What’s one more drug. Between steroids, thyroid pills, and all my psych meds, I’m having a ball! I was one of those people you had to beg to take an aspirin. Now I keep a bottle on my night stand.

There’s so much fauna and flora, here, I have friends that are in constant battle against allergens, and living at the edge of the Pacific keeps things damp. I’ve battled pneumonia twice in my life. Had to spend a month in bed and celebrated my 13th birthday with mustard plaster on my chest. The kids in the neighborhood felt sorry for me. They pooled their allowance money and bought me a bouquet of red roses and a box of Whitman’s chocolates. I remember them standing around my bed as I read the big card they all signed. They made me feel missed and loved.

Steroids are known to do strange things. For one, I’ll be sitting down and all of a sudden, their side effects just take me by surpriseā€¦ my body is still, but my insides feel like they’re scrambling all over the place. I can’t really explain it, but it’s quite disturbing. It comes and goes. Haven’t felt it yet today. And then there are fits of anger. Actually, little spurts. I just throw things, but carefully. And no dishes anymore.

A few days ago, my husband called me from the grocery store, asking if there was anything else I wanted for dinner. The scrambling inside feeling came over me, along with the realization that it was time for my afternoon dose of a steroid pill, and I just threw the phone down and told him I didn’t want to think about food and what he needed to pick up at the store. Poor guy. My daughter asked me, “Don’t they make you crabby?” Oh yes, but at least I can breathe through my nose!

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My Goal

Through blogging, I want to share my story, life experiences & give hope to others struggling with mental health issues & the stigma that goes with it.

Although diagnosed late in life, and with many challenges through the years, I'm finally living life fully and gratefully, with my grandchild, family & friends! I hope to make some new friends here.

 

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Resources

Feeling suicidal? Please dial 911 or contact the following:

National Suicide Prevention Hotline toll free:
1-800-SUICIDE (784-2433)
1-800-273-TALK (8255)

Veteran's Suicide Prevention Hotline:
1-800-273-8255

International Association for Suicide Prevention (IASP)
National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI)
National Institute of Mental Health (NIMH)
Psych Central
Mayo Clinic
Depression and Bipolar Support Alliance

Disclaimer

Information presented on this blog is not a substitution for professional medical care and a treatment program. If you or a loved one has bipolar disorder or any other mental illness or mental health issue, please immediately seek the services and advise of a medical doctor for accurate diagnosis and treatment.