So, it turns out steroids and I aren’t such great mates, after all. After increasingly bad symptoms yesterday, and only 5 hours sleep last night (despite retiring to bed to avoid demons at 6pm), I called a nurse at 5:15am this morning. She advised me to get to a doctor within 4 hours, but the idea of going to an ER as the dregs of Saturday night ebb away didn’t appeal, so I’m waiting until my pharmacy opens and will call them instead.
This whole episode has reminded me of how we go up and down the scale of human needs as required. Yesterday, the delightful suzjones wrote about being a “gunna” which got me thinking about higher-level drives towards self-actualization and the like. Now I’m back down the bottom of that hierarchy of drives, just doing things needed to stay well and out of harm’s way.
I know all will be well, if I just avoid confronting situations and wait for this blasted drug to exit my system. Knowing everything’s going to be OK doesn’t make it feel any better in these moments, though.
All will be well, all will be well, and all manner of things will be well!
NOT FOR ME, IT WOULD SEEM!