I used to be defined by my job or my writings. Now I am defined by my health. Can I get out of bed today? Can I think? What kind of psychotic behavior will my medications cause?
When I was on 60 mg of prednisone, I could only think in screams. Now that I am on 12 1/2 mg of prednisone, I see this body has gained 30 pounds of extra weight. I cannot wear my clothes. I am on a low protein diet because of my kidney involvement and my doctors want me to lose weight. It is ironic.
But I hope that one day my disease will be cured, that one day my kidneys will heal, that one day I will be freed from prednisone.
For now, I sit on my couch and watch the Western Scrub Jays wing in and snatch the peanuts on the balcony. One sorts the peanuts into piles of size and weight. I laugh as they squawk and fly and live in my little world. For a moment, I can forget that I am ill with a chronic illness that will eventually lead to my death. For a moment, I can be happy.
I trust that you, a wanna be doctor or researcher, will remember me. Even though I am not a child or a celebrity with a well-known disease, you will be smart enough to cure me. I wait for you.