That’s Dr. Mr. Fancypants…

So I went to see a fancypants doctor today who specializes in auto-immune diseases like the one that I have. The inside of the waiting room reminded me of Nip/Tuck for some reason, even though I’ve only ever seen one episode of the show. It was all Doric columns, peach paint and walnut stain.

Turns out the treatment of the disease this time around hasn’t been as effective as the doctor’s might have hoped. Up until now, my kidney doctor hadn’t prescribed prednisone because in his view, the Wegener’s was just grumbling, and not fully active. But I’ve been having symptoms for a year now, and the imuran isn’t enough. Apparently, studies have shown that you can’t just treat the disease with one drug (imuran up until now), you need both (imuran plus prednisone). So now, after seeing another specialist, I’m back on the steroids, which I hate for many reasons.

They make you crazy. They make you gain weight. They give you acne and “unwanted hair growth”. They keep you up at night. It’s a nasty bit of business, prednisone, even though your body makes it naturally.

I’m upset today because the last time I took prednisone, I fell into the worst depression of my life. I heard voices telling me to jump off of buildings. I cried all the time. I had two years of serious therapy to try to pull me out of my head. I spent obsessive compulsive weeks where I wouldn’t be able to leave the house until I’d scrubbed it with bleach. And I don’t want to go back to being that person. I don’t want to hide in my closet because I’m afraid to leave the house. I don’t want to be afraid of the streetcar because I can’t stand everyone staring at me. But most of all, I don’t want to hate myself with a passion that could truly be used for some thing better.