I’m on Day 10 on my 12-day prescription of Prednisone, the steroid that is supposed to open up my sinus passages. You know what I’ve learned? It will take dynamite to actually clear out my sinuses. And steroids make me want to choke people.
Oh sure, it was all fun and games for the first few days. Steroids are like speed. I was full of nervous energy that I didn’t know what to do with. I think I mentioned that I am cleaning out and rearranging my house to prepare for my mother to move in. Well, steroids were just what I needed to really jump-start that plan. Several closets have been cleaned out and my pile for a garage sale (Goodwill, more likely) is huge.
Things went downhill in the days after that. As I stared at the mess of scattered pictures on my bedroom floor, I realized that I no longer wanted to sort and organize every picture I have taken since the birth of my children. No, I would rather cause bodily harm to someone. Anyone will do. Preferably the makers of Mucinex with all of their promises to reduce swelling in your nose so you can breathe. Liars.
To add to my steroid stress level, Monoboy has been exhibiting signs of, well,…mono. I know, my jaw is on the floor too. He’s missed school all week with high fever, headache, and constant sleeping. It started last Friday night when he complained of a migraine. He’s no stranger to migraines, but I don’t think he’s had one since the summer, so THAT should have been my first clue. But we all know how much I love denial. I gave him his migraine meds and went on about my business of cleaning closets. After his soccer game on Saturday, he was in tears from the migraine, then fell asleep on the way home. Clue #2. (Listen people, I lived for YEARS in denial that my marriage was over. Two days of denial about mono is nothing.)
That evening when he REALLY looked terrible, I started to suspect that he was sick. Of course, he denied it because he had made plans to play putt-putt with his girlfriend. While we were playing (yes, of course, I was the chaperone), I noticed that he wouldn’t even grip the club with two hands. Oh sure, he was smiling ever so sweetly at his girlfriend, but no real movement other than that smile.
After putt-putt, his girlfriend came over to my house so that they could watch a movie. It didn’t take her long sitting next to him to realize that he was putting off enough body heat to warm Alaska. “Ummm, do you have a thermometer? I think he might be sick.” Do I have a thermometer? Girlfriend, what kind would you like? I bought just about every thermometer that Walgreens had to offer a few years ago. I was hoping that one of them would tell me that his fever was gone, and so was his mono.
Turns out she was right. His temp was 102.1. The next day it rose to 103.4. Then several days at 101, and hovering over 99 ever since. He was so sick that he missed his first high school basketball scrimmage. THE SPORT THAT WE GOT UP FOR EVERY MORNING AT 4:05AM! That kid is sick.
Shoot. Me. Now.
Better yet, let me shoot someone. It will calm the steroid jitters. I think. Er well, it might be worth a shot. (Get it? Shot? Oh my, I am delirious.)