Day three is in the bag. No more gagging on handfuls of nasty-tasting pills a couple of times tomorrow. That last handful of Prednisone I took earlier this evening had the same effect it usually has. I was torn.Happy it was over. Happy I got to spend today with a dear, dear friend and colleague who is leaving our company on Friday. Happy I got to use my brain a bit in the actual room where it happened! Happy to see clients who are also friends.

Then the sad hits. How long will this last? Are my multiple near-death experiences on my way from my car to my home any indication of how messed up I’m gonna feel tomorrow?

What I’m about to tell you is 100% the truth.

I got myself to the meeting well enough. I felt more or less OK and was mindful of my bodily needs: not sitting too long, not standing too long, constant hydration followed by many trips to the bathroom. Washed my hands about 6,000 times. Doused myself in hand sanitizer intermittently. I had my meds all packed, I took my time and walked slow. I brought my heavy-duty rollator for the day (Nitro) because I knew I needed the work horse. Trouble is, Nitro weighs about 20 pounds. At the end of the day when my body was kaput and I needed to get to my car, I required two people in addition to me to make it happen.

Of course, it started pouring rain. Of course, I had Nitro, my backpack and a coat (without hood) and no umbrella hand. From out of nowhere, Pam, our office manager and all-around angel, scurries over to me waving a giant black umbrella and proceeds to walk with me to the street outside. Then she runs across the street to the valet to both pay him and to get him to pull the car right up in front of where I stood on the other side of the street (I had very few steps left in me). Then Pam and the valet get Nitro in the trunk, my backpack and coat in the front passenger seat, and me in the front driver’s seat. Pam had to lift my left foot into the car FOR me. I felt like Salma Blair. Good Christ. People are nice.

I drive home in the rain, tired to my bones. It starts raining even harder. I realize I’m going to have the same problem getting out of my car and into my house again once I finally make it there. The grass is all muddy. My wheels are going to get stuck. I’m going to get all muddy lifting Nitro out of the car. In sheer desperation I call Alex from the road thinking I’m going to beg him to meet me at my house to help me when I get there when I discover he’s heading to my house to scoop for me as we speak! How lucky am I?

Once I get to my house and pull into the driveway I notice that the stormy wind has left my recycling bin in front of my driveway blocking my way. I can’t walk far enough to get out of the car to move the bin. I have to back up and park on the street so I can get out of the car. But I park beside a very high curb and I park too close to said curb. I can’t lift myself out of the car from that angle. Jesus Mary and Joseph. Again. I have to pull up to block my neighbor’s driveway so I can use their driveway ramp to get myself out of the car. Alex arrived just in time to move the bin, re-park my car AND scoop my litter.

I mean…miracles occur and angels walk the earth or today would not have been possible for me.

There’s more. I’m not going to even get into it because I’m already bored. But you might be asking yourselves right now if any of this lunacy was worth it. Three thousand milligrams of Prednisone over the course of three days, the strategizing and planning of the things I could control, the maneuvering around the gazillion things I could not control then enlisting the help of friends, valets, colleagues and family just to get out of the house and in that room for a few hours wearing makeup and trying to remember how people behave in the outside world…was any of this worth it?

Hell yeah, it was. I got to hug my friends, do some thinking and snuggle a brand-new baby. It was worth every bit of it.