Please forgive me if I gnaw on your arm…

I have an autoimmune disorder, and life with this disorder is decidedly interesting. One of the things I have to deal with, on a regular basis, is visits from the Prednisone Fairy. Actually, she ain’t no fairy. She’s a monster. For a month I suffer from what Birdman and I affectionately call Roid Rage, hot and cold sweats, extreme hunger (yeah, keep your body parts covered, least you find me gnawing on your leg), and also some insomnia. Fabulous.

The upside is that after I go through this Prednisone burst, I do fairly well for a few months. The vertigo is lessened, and I don’t look like a mad drunk woman all the time. I mean, seriously? If I’m going to wobble around like I’ve had a pitcher of margaritas by MYSELF, at least I could enjoy it.

This I do not enjoy.

However, one only has to look to the right or to the left to find someone who is going through something worse. Yes, the world spins for me on a regular basis, and every time I get an infection it’s a MRSA (Methicillin-resistant Staphylococcus aureus), but hey, it could be worse. People pay money to spin. Look how popular Disneyland is. Come on over to my house, and I’ll show you spinning. A few months ago I tried to stand off the bed to turn off our fan, because yes, I AM THAT SHORT, and it didn’t go well. Dizzy people should not stand on objects that move beneath them. Okay, fine the bed wasn’t moving, but it FELT LIKE IT.

Birdman likes to take credit for that part, but not the part that came after. You know, the one where I fell off the bed (silly monkey, no more jumping on the bed) and practically broke my head.

At any rate, this will not kill me. At least not yet. There is a test that sounds something like Muggles, that comes back wonky every time they do it. It is a cancer test. Bone marrow. So now I get to have it done every year, and every six months if the whatever-they-are increase.

Monitoring that is not all that fun. But it could be worse. My brother-in-law just had his stomach removed. Yes, they do that when someone has stomach cancer. And you can live without a stomach. They believe they got it all, and all his lymph nodes came back clean, but because stomach (gastric) cancer is so aggressive, they are putting him on a rather nasty dose of chemo. Life for them will not be so great for a while.

So me? I’ll take my own private Disneyland. And excuse me, will you pass the salt so I can eat this paper plate? When’s dinner? I’m starving…


About Natalie R. Collins

Natalie has more than 30 years writing, editing, proofreading and design experience. She has written 20 books (and counting), has worked for the Sundance Film Festival, and as an investigative journalist, editor, and proofreader. She embraces her gypsy-heart and is following her new free-thinking journey through life. Follow her as she starts over and learns a bunch of life's lessons--some the hard way.
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