Wish I Had Something Earth-Shattering To Say...

But, I don't.

I am surviving post IV Solumedrol withdrawal at the moment. My last dose of a three-series was at 10:00AM on Saturday and I am now (hopefully) on the downward side of the roid wave. Dr. She Who Will Not Be Named no longer does the mean Prednisone taper as it seemed to always cause...well...how shall I say? CRAZINESS. So, I am left to fend for myself with maddened adrenal glands and shocked hormones trying to rebalance an already delicate (and slightly off kilter) biological system.

As always, the steroids provided immediate relief from the horrendous fatigue. Oddly though, I think my system was already running on fumes by the time the IV Soly was introduced as I felt only a mild flight into mania this time around...which is unusual. Generally, I am able to complete a full toothbrush cleaning of my entire baseboards at 4:00AM by day three of the IV's. LOL

The bizarre facial tics and trunk tremors did subside as did the dizziness...until today...sigh. The "tics" and "twitches" have not returned, but the dreaded dizziness has begun to resurface, leaving me feeling once again uncertain of my footing and giving consideration to hurling the 500 pounds of food I have been packing down my gullet while on the steroids.

Steroid withdrawal always leaves me feeling some strange sense of disconnect from my world...as if time is passing by outside my eyes, just not INSIDE my head. Random and tangential thoughts fly by as do completely unrelated bursts of emotion. None of my thoughts seem to come with handles attached...it is quite difficult to hold onto one for more than a momentary touch, until it slips restlessly away from my hands like a slick water balloon. And then, I'm on to the next thing that enters my mind unannounced. I've found that good old fashioned napping is about the best source of comfort while I pass the "crazy" through my system.

Speaking of naps...I woke up this afternoon with the TV chattering at me in the background, only to discover one of my favorite people was featured on one of my not-so-favorite TV shows...Oprah. Dr. Jill Bolte-Taylor (you may remember her from this post) was talking about her book, "My Stroke Of Insight - A Brain Scientist's Personal Journey". If you haven't seen her brief talk linked to the post on CHEESE or read her book, briefly I will say this woman suffered her own stroke, which nearly killed her. She has a fascinating tale and way of telling information about the brain--someone I highly recommend checking out.

Anyway, not to "out tangent" myself here, I *came to* from my nap just as Dr. Bolte-Taylor was discussing with Opie the event that led to her mother's arrival at her ICU bed shortly after her stroke. Dr. Bolte-Taylor had blown out part of her brain and had no word or number recognition abilities...so when everyone was talking about "GiGi" arriving, she had no ability to recall or discern WHO this person was. Turns out, GiGi is/was her mother (who also happened to be in Opie's crowd while her daughter talked today).

I sat on my couch and listened to Dr. Bolte-Taylor talk about how her mother entered her ICU room, nodded at the doctors/nurses, and then without hesitation, walked over to her daughter's bed, pulled back the sheet, and crawled into bed with her. She lay down beside her daughter and simply held her...which was the only thing Dr. Bolte-Taylor COULD feel.

The camera on the TV show cut to "GiGi" and there was this mother of a brain scientist sitting elegantly crying...she wiped her eyes and said, to this day, hearing or talking about this incident remained difficult for her because it brought up so much emotion...not knowing if her adult child was going to live or die...she did the only thing a mother COULD do. She crawled into the bed and held her child.

I know the steroids pulsing out of my body are/were the major catalyst behind the tears that flowed from my eyes as I watched this touching moment on TV...I know the steroids make me crazy-emotional.

But in that moment in time, all I could think was, I hope when/if the day comes that I cannot feel, or hear, or see, or I remain precariously balancing on that mysterious ledge of life, someone...ANYONE...gently pulls back my covers and crawls into my bed. That someone...ANYONE...holds my place for me and finds me wherever I might be amid biological chaos.

And if it is my time to go...someone...ANYONE...gently carries me over the bar back *home*.