I’m ready to be off the steroids for this yellow jacket sting. I can’t sleep, my skin is clammy, and in the mornings, which are my peaceful time, my heart pounds like before a race, all full of nervous energy.

I listen to the cicadas buzz, to the wet lapping of our cat drinking the cool water I put in her bowl. The lapping sound in particular calms me. I don’t know why it tickles me so to listen to her drink. There’s something very satisfying about quenching a thirst. Maybe that’s all it is. Or that she takes so much joy from it. She sits by her water bowl and stares at us until we refresh it, and then she relaxes down and laps, laps, laps.

I’m waiting for my breakfast to settle so I can go for a run. I’m crawling out of my skin. When I swam yesterday, my muscles did not fatigue, even when I swam sprints. In fact, I couldn’t feel my muscles at all. They were numb. My arms stroked and my legs kicked, and I thought, no wonder athletes take steroids. The only things stopping me from swimming forever were time and interest. My body could have gone a lot longer.

I am in a constant state of jitters. This is the opposite of how I like to feel. I like feeling peaceful. I do not feel that right now. Usually listening to the birds brings me peace, or reading poetry, petting the cats, or smiling at the thought of my children in their beds here at home for the summer. Breathing brings me peace. With these steroids in my system, I’m having a hard time getting to a zen state, even with all those easy normal things.

The good news is that my foot is back to its normal size, and I avoided a trip to the emergency room for my wasp sting. Tomorrow is the last dose of the steroid. I hope it filters out of my system soon after that. I’m ready to feel chill again.