I didn't hear anything all week, so I thought I had dodged a bullet.
Until yesterday, that is, when I got a voicemail from Melissa saying that they want me to increase to 20 mg. This is still not a huge dose, but it sure is higher than 5.
She said it will probably get my liver to where it's supposed to be and also help my platelets.
I whined to Katie this morning.
"Better prednisone and platelets than no prednisone and no platelets," she said.
Well put.
I walked into yoga last night limping, and Erin asked what the problem was. I told her about the recurrence of the dreaded and dreadful plantar fasciitis.
"This is the worst thing that's ever happened to me," I wailed.
She knows better, and of course I do too. We both cracked up.
She devoted some time to exercises stretching and massaging the sole of the foot and talking about fascia, the layer of fibrous tissue that permeates the body.
I had intended to wear the boot to bed last night. I thought I saw it sticking up from a box of stuff. Then I realized that I was seeing wrist braces, which I had worn when I had twinges of carpal tunnel syndrome from typing so much at work. I looked really great back then when I went to bed with wrist braces and a big black boot.
I remembered lending the boot to a fellow plantar fasciitis sufferer, but I couldn't remember getting it back. I called her and she said she still had it. She brought it over this morning, so tonight I'll put it on.
I hope at least my wrists hold out.
