Prednisone Is the Devil!

Such an unassuming Hellmouth, that little pill bottle.

Such an unassuming Hellmouth, that little pill bottle.

I don’t care what anyone says, Prednisone might not be metabolic steroids but it makes me rage. Lots of neon expletives. And then weep uncontrollably. And then just generally feel even crappier, if that’s possible. Wow, it sucks. Blurred vision, anyone? Dizziness? I didn’t get the munchies, but I sure as hell got amped-up jitters and insomnia. That’s always helpful when you’re slightly anemic, fatigued anyway, waking up because your bowels have all the courtesy of a wailing newborn without a circadian rhythm, and then even though your body wants to surrender to sleep your mind is replaying The Cinematics’ frenetic “Break” at club-level volume in your head. And did it do a damn thing to curb the flare and the bleeding and all the actual torment? Nope. The stuff just sucks. It must be a test—you think plain-old UC is bad? Just wait til we give you ‘roids! You’ll be begging to just bleed for the rest of your life! Perspective. It’s a bitch.

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