Dear Reader, I fear the situation is grim: yours truly has turned into a roid rager. Actually, perhaps I'll back up a bit...
You may or may not recall the period not long ago when I suffered from a medical condition known as devil eye? (This is a technical term, by the way. Not really.) After taking anti-biotic drops, I was under the impression my devil eye had disappeared. (Or so it would have me believe...)
On Monday I heard the somber news that I had not one but two different infections, in both of my eyes. What the? The kind doctor's Instructions were as follows: no contacts lenses for at least two weeks (Crikey!), and eye drops every day for three.
The first day on the drops I felt...well, I had my period, which meant I felt tired, moody, irrational and bloated. But aside from these usual unpleasantries I was feeling rather edgy. I picked two ridiculous arguments with Sissy and Hubby before I issued myself a time-out. In the corner. No chardonnay, Young Lady.
The next day at work I felt groggy and anti-social, not at all my normally chipper work-self. This seemed like more than my typical monthly menstrual antics. Could it be the drops? After all, shortly after dropping them into my eyes I could taste the liquid running down the back of my throat, most definitely preparing itself for a wild romp through my bloodstream.
That night I took a mental inventory: Feeling bitter? Check. Exhausted? Check. Temperamental? You betcha! As per usual this time of the month, granted, but wait a minute, hadn't the doctor said...
I raced to the kitchen, opened my bag, and discovered what I had been suspecting all along: Prednisolone acetate something or other, blah blah blah...Steroids! I was on steroids! Holy shit!
Immediately I called my Dad and informed him that his daughter had been experiencing roid rage via drops to her eyeballs. I suspected he thought I was out of my mind, but this was confirmed an hour later, when my Mother called and in her sweetest voice asked, "Honey, I have to ask you, is your neck feeling bigger today?" She then erupted into giggles and I gathered that my Father had told her about my condition. As in, her youngest daughter was a monster. An out of control roid rager. Jason Giambi, for all intents and purposes.
Ever the comforter, my Sister called to ask me if the 'roids had given me zits on my back. I didn't laugh. I lashed out. Sweet Baby Jesus, I was roid raging!
Dearest Reader, I still have over two weeks worth of drops in my little bottle. Like Barry Bonds and Jose Canseco before me, I pray I do not succumb to the luster of steroids. I don't want to get big and muscley-armed! (OK, yes, I do realize I'm not on anabolic steroids, but only because my Sister pointed that out to me.) But truly, I do feel moody. And not just because I'm on the rag. This is definitely chemical.
~The Roidy Broad XOXO
PS- Wearing glasses really throws me off. I totally bumped my forehead into a doorframe today.
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