I have a love-hate relationship with steroids. I recently tapered off of a large dose and the side effects were running rampant within my body. I was truly convinced, as I ballooned into a white whale, that I was supposed to eat everything in site. That could have meant an unspoken invitation to someone else's leftovers, late night snacks, and about 8 breakfasts, 6 lunches, 4 dinners, the partridge in a pear tree. (Who am I kidding, I ate the pear tree too).
I initially started gaining weight from steroids in August when I began chemotherapy. It was a slow climb at first. They were given to me as part of my premeds to help prevent nausea; which, they did. But they also caused some problems. I felt full and swollen most of the time. Eventually, I asked for them to be removed from my regime. My wishes were granted and I was still spared the nausea, so I was pleased.
Unfortunately, they semi-recently came back into play and they seemed to have returned prepared to settle some kind of score. They arrived with a crummy mood and put me in a crummy mood. While there was no roid rage, I could tell that I wasn't acting like myself and I'm pretty sure that even PMS probably wouldn't know what to do with me.
I understand what they are supposed to ease some of my symptoms but in my opinion they caused more harm than good by unleashing this hangry hairless monster into society. I would compare myself to Godzilla in relation to my takeover of food, but when I wasn't busy terrorizing the kitchen, I felt more comfortable unbuttoning the top button of my pants and rolling from place to place.
I might be exaggerating just a tad, but you knew that didn't you? I was finally permitted to slowly stop taking these meds but it took a month to appropriately wean off of them and the aftermath left me about 15 pounds heavier. In the bigger picture, anything that can help me is for the greater good even if it tips the scales and requires larger jeans.
Plus, as much as I complain now...it was a delicious journey.
