“Are you experiencing difficulty breathing?” the nurse inquired over the phone. Just an hour after taking my first dose of antibiotics, my scalp began to itch, and my torso felt as if it were on fire. My immediate thought was, “Oh no, the lice are back.” I rushed to a mirror, only to find a massive hive stretching from my head down to my waist. As I dialed the family medicine practice, I chugged down every last drop of liquid Benadryl I could find.
After receiving a 125 mg steroid injection in my backside, I returned home just in time to greet my kids as they arrived on the school bus, high on a wave of drug-induced euphoria. No nap necessary.
That was just the start. My doctor prescribed a 12-day course of steroids. Less than a day after my shot, I took three pills that Saturday morning. At a swim meet, I found myself pacing the deck, cheering for kids I had never met, volunteering to handle disqualification slips, and engaging in conversations with anyone who would listen. Two fellow moms were astonished by the contrast from the previous week’s meet, where I had been a teary mess, buried under a mountain of tissues and hot tea due to an upper respiratory infection.
By day three, I felt invincible. While the kids were at school, I tackled piles of laundry. Upon their return, I had to suppress the urge to strip them down and toss their clothes into the washing machine. The kitchen was spotless, with no dirty dishes cluttering the sink. Cereal boxes found their way back to the pantry instead of lingering on the counters. I had morphed into my mother-in-law, a woman who can’t relax until everything is in order. We were all a bit unnerved.
Day four began with my volunteer duties at the kids’ elementary school. I had chosen the hottest day of the year to supervise children dressed as knights in jousting competitions on the playground. Between the steroids and the heat, I felt like I was navigating a midlife crisis. Trouble brewed when I got home; as panic set in about the upcoming end of the school year, I messaged a friend: “I have exactly three days and around 2.5 hours until my kids are free for the summer.”
On day five, I cut back to 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’s activities, red for my son’s, and orange for the few camps they would attend together. Aware that my time as Steroid Mom was limited, I hoped that the binder would help me achieve the impossible. By 1 p.m., however, I felt the familiar urge to bury my head in a pillow; someone had stepped on my cape.
Days six through eight saw a resurgence of energy. When my kids got off the bus on the last day of school, I took them to see Inside Out. During the film, I laughed and cried, possibly due to the steroids but also because I finally saw the kind of parent I aspired to be: pain-free, energetic, and organized. Pre-steroids, I was a mix of Sadness, Fear, Anger, and Disgust. Thanks to those pills, I had momentarily transformed into Joy. But the ride was winding down, and sadness was eyeing the control panel in my mind.
Day nine meant just one pill instead of two, though I compensated with an extra cup of coffee. While my kids and husband enjoyed a day at the lake without me, I managed to spill communion wine all over my dress at church.
On the first official day of summer break, I packed swim and camp bags for each child and devised a plan for them to earn chore points toward an Xbox 360. Their progress went straight into our Summer binder.
The final surge of steroid-induced vigor carried me through a meeting on day 12, where a woman remarked, “Wow, you’re so different from the last time I saw you.” I explained my situation, adding, “Tomorrow, the crash hits.”
Nearly two weeks after my hive outbreak, I awoke to an empty pill bottle. When my 10-year-old daughter started complaining at breakfast, I gently said, “Remember the character Sadness from the movie?” She nodded. “Mommy feels like Sadness today. I’m trying really hard but could use your help.”
It took a few days to regain my balance. Now, the fluctuations between Sadness and Joy are somewhat less jarring. The chronic pain returned, and I find myself needing naps most afternoons. However, that Summer binder remains, and I even gained a shared language about emotions to use with my daughter.
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In summary, the wild ride of a steroid-fueled parenting spree led to some unexpected transformations, emotional connections, and a newfound sense of organization, even as the inevitable crash followed.