“Are you experiencing any difficulty breathing?” the nurse inquired over the phone. Just an hour after my first dose of antibiotics, I noticed a prickling sensation on my scalp and a warmth spreading across my torso. My initial thought was, “Oh no, not the lice again.” I rushed to the mirror, only to discover a massive hive extending from my head down to my waist. As I frantically searched for liquid Benadryl, I dialed the family medicine practice.
After receiving a 125 mg steroid injection in my backside, I returned home just in time to greet my kids as they got off the school bus, feeling a rush of drug-induced euphoria that made a nap seem unnecessary.
This was just the beginning. My doctor prescribed a 12-day steroid regimen. Less than 24 hours post-injection, I took three pills that Saturday morning. At the swim meet, I found myself pacing the deck, cheering for unfamiliar kids, volunteering to handle disqualification slips, and chatting with every parent I encountered. Two friends remarked on how drastically different I was from the previous week when an upper respiratory infection had left me a miserable heap, clutching a box of tissues and a steaming cup of tea.
By day three, I felt invincible. While the kids were at school, I tackled the laundry pile. When they returned, I suppressed the urge to strip them of their clothes and toss them in the washing machine. The kitchen was spotless, with no dirty dishes lurking by the sink. Cereal boxes were promptly returned to the pantry instead of cluttering the countertops. I had transformed into my mother-in-law, a woman who cannot relax until everything is in order. It was both impressive and a little frightening.
Day four began with my volunteer role at the kids’ elementary school. I had chosen the hottest day of the year to supervise children dressed in medieval costumes jousting on the playground. Between the steroids and the heat, I felt like I was in a whirlwind. After returning home, I panicked about the impending end of the school year, sending a frantic message to a friend: “I have exactly three days and about 2.5 hours until my kids are out for summer.”
On day five, I opted for two pills instead of three. After waving goodbye to the school bus, I sprinted home to create color-coded calendars: purple for swim practices, yellow for my daughter, red for my son, and orange for their shared camps. I knew my time as Steroid Mom was limited, but the binder might just help me maintain my supermom status. Around 1 p.m., however, I felt the familiar urge to bury my head in a pillow; someone had clearly stepped on my cape.
Days six to eight were a blur of productivity. When my kids got off the bus on the last day of school, I took them to see Inside Out. I laughed and cried during the film, partly due to the steroids, but also because I was witnessing the type of parent I aspired to be: energetic and organized. Before the steroids, I was a mix of Sadness, Fear, Anger, and Disgust. With the help of those little pills, I had transformed into Joy. But as with all highs, the ride was nearing its conclusion, and I could feel Sadness waiting to take control again.
On day nine, I reduced my intake to one pill, compensating with an extra cup of coffee. My kids and husband headed to the lake without me, and at church, I managed to spill communion wine all over my dress.
The first official day of summer break had me packing swim and camp bags for the kids. I devised a plan for them to earn chore points towards an Xbox 360, diligently tracking their progress in our Summer binder.
The final surge of steroid-induced energy propelled me through a meeting on day twelve. A fellow attendee remarked, “Wow, you seem completely different from the last time I saw you.” I explained my situation and added, “Tomorrow, I expect the crash.”
Almost two weeks after the hive incident, I awoke to find my pill bottle empty. When my 10-year-old daughter began complaining at breakfast, I looked at her and, in my gentlest tone, said, “Remember Sadness from the movie?” She nodded. “Mommy feels like Sadness today. You could drag me across the floor. I’m really trying, but I need your help.”
It took a few days to regain my balance. Now, the fluctuations between Sadness and Joy are less extreme. The chronic pain has returned, and I often find myself needing naps in the afternoons. However, the Summer binder remains a testament to my brief reign as Steroid Mom. Perhaps even better, I gained a shared emotional language with my daughter, which will serve us well in the future.
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Summary
In this humorous and candid account, Jamie Thompson shares her experience as she navigates the whirlwind of motherhood while on a steroid regimen. From feeling invincible to grappling with the emotional ups and downs, she reflects on her temporary transformation into an ultra-productive supermom and the lessons learned along the way.
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