Damn Steroids

But not for the reasons you might think

I am not known for being a particularly passionate guy. Emotions exist, of course, but they’re typically kept well inside.

Imagine my surprise when, in the days after my fall and surgery, I was frequently, unexpectedly, weeping. My mind would touch on a topic and all of a sudden … tears.

I have two theories: reality and “the excuse”.

Reality

The reality is that I went through what can only be described as a very emotional trauma. No, never “near death’s door”, but still pretty damned scary and in a possibly life-altering kind of way.

And yet, it wasn’t the specifics of my injury or even recovery that would set me off; it was the people. Realizing the people who had come out to support Kathy and me was (and remains) truly overwhelming. I think I’ve written elsewhere that I knew there was a list, I hadn’t internalized how long it was and how fast it would move.

From the very start, Kathleen, my sister-by-choice, wrangling both 911 and Joo, our daughter-by-choice. Joo accompanying me in the ambulance, being exactly who I needed next to me during that ride. Her son Eugene being exactly who Kathy needed as she scrambled to meet me at the hospital. Joo staying an extra week to help Kathy out with my situation.

Offers from more friends to help with the mundane and picky details that pop up in situations like this. Some we took up, some were reassuring simply because we knew the offers were real and ready should we need them.

As I learned of each, I’d break down a little more.

Post-surgery, as the news and implications spread, my Ask Leo! staff not only was ready to step up but also suggested a contingency very similar to what I’d have dreamt up myself, which was also a level of reassurance I didn’t expect. Yes, in the grand scheme of things, that biz can handle hard downtime, but that’s not the point: that people were thinking of it and me is.

Visits resulted in happy tears. Departures warranted more. A few moments reflecting on gratitude, and there we go again.

Then I’d reflect on how my little Humpty Dumpty experience made me let down others who had been relying on me. Sigh.

Tears continue.

As I write this, it’s exactly two weeks since the fall. This morning was the first morning I a) woke up in my own bed (had been using recliners since returning home) and b) with a dog by my side (Maxine). Even as I type that, my eyes are getting misty. Again.

And yet, I’m not that kinda guy. Or am I?

Excuses

Part of my post-surgical regimen is an ongoing course of steroids. IV while in the hospital, it’s now oral, and on a lengthy and amazingly complicated ramp-down. Seriously, it’s taking a spreadsheet to track the dosage schedule†.

I’m told steroids can mess you up. The stereotype is “rhoid rage”, which is not what this would be. Specifically, one possible side effect of the specific corticosteroid I’m on is mood swings; another is euphoria.

It’s become a running joke. Whenever I start to try to say something that triggers unexpected tears, I mumble something about “damn steroids” and let the feelings run their course. The only way through is … through.

Moderation in all tears

The reality, of course, is somewhere in between. I have feelings. Steroids might just be lowering the barrier to expression.

Rather than stuff it all or become paralyzed by embarrassment, I’ve elected to embrace it. Let’s see what this “feelings” shit is all about, shall we?

When all is said and done, emotion matters. Whether it’s excessive or appropriate, the things I’ve felt the past two weeks have helped me identify things that I wouldn’t have otherwise. I’ve been taking notes. The emotional barrier will slowly rise once again (though hopefully not quite as high). But I’ll still have my thoughts. That’s a win, in my book.

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† Since I know some will express concern, we’re on top of this. The instructions were maddeningly complex, but going old-school spreadsheet (if such a thing can be called “old school”) has the steroid ramp-down safe and exactly as it should be.