Being back on the steroid dexamethasone is slightly bothersome, but mostly a pure delight. In comparison to the several days of vomiting, spewing bile, and dry heaving during my taper from the drug earlier this month, the last several days have been joyous.
I am putting weight back on, but don’t really give a shit about that. I can walk around. I can type. I can think not-depressing things. And I enjoy eating and recipe hunting so immensely that some days I just soak up being alive instead of contemplating the tumor in my head.
If there’s one major dislike, though, it’s the edema (or swelling) caused by the steroid. I can deal with my balloon-like feet and hands, but the face stuff. ARGH!
I am so moon-faced that I can’t put earrings on. Seriously. My cheeks stick out too far and my ears are hidden BEHIND them. I can’t turn my head and look at myself in the mirror for a couple of reasons. First, the range of motion in my neck and shoulders is still pretty limited, even though I’m nearly five months post-op. Second, my nystagmus is unchanged. When I look left or right, the room gets very, very spinny.
And then there’s that glorious feeling that I’m being choked to death by my own neck. Probably the most irksome of all the swells. I have a neck roll that, aside from being unattractive, is like totally impossible to dry thoroughly after a shower.
TMI? Yeah, don’t care.
I ingested 66 ounces of fluids yesterday plus had an entire plate of produce for supper—mostly for the high water content. Still woke up this morning feeling all Stay Puft. (Heat me up and I expand like a marshmallow, baby.) It’s going to be a lot warmer today, which doesn’t help. So if you need me, I’ll be in my recliner with my feet up waiting for Second Breakfast and playing Fallout Shelter.
Stay Puff girl — darn auto correct, you know what I mean — have a great day — recliner and all. Your essay today has provided an existential lesson in the meaning of life for me — FOOOOOOD. The rest can go fuck itself.