Last week, I had a pretty gnarly flare involving my feet. In my desperation, I called the rheumatologist’s office. Just today, I finished the prescribed steroid dose pack. I have felt unnaturally fantastic the last couple of days.
Generally, I am not a fan of steroids because they wear off. But boy, do they ever make me feel good! Steroids bring instant gratification to a suddenly capable body. I have energy, flexibility, and mobility. Yoga on steroids is my version of winning a race or medaling in the Olympics. I bend. I twist. I stretch. I relax. I breathe. I beam. It’s spring, and I am twitterpated with normalcy.
Days like these offer a glimpse into the perfect health I don’t have. And then they disappear. The steroids fade just as quickly as they kick in. I will sink back into my struggle to perform the mundane tasks that were so easy hours ago. I will eventually forget how good I feel today and maybe that it’s even possible to feel this good. I will be complacent in my mediocre abilities. I will forget how it feels to put my weight into my wrists without pain, how far back my shoulders can rotate, and how straight my arms and legs were during a wide-leg balance yesterday. I will tire again, accept my swollen joints as my personal standard, and allow my pain to dictate too much of my day-to-day life.
This week is a mirage, a glimmer of the unattainable goal. It is a reminder of how remission can feel and how sick I really am. It is a reminder to be honest with my doctor about how crappy I feel and that, no, crappy is not actually normal. I will continue my yoga practice with many shortcomings. I will continue in pursuit of slow progress and in memory of this invigorating mirage.
Bound Angles 