The Show Must Go On....

After the sad events of the last 2 weeks, it  is time to come out of mourning and present a new face to the world. In the words of the late great HRH Frederick  de Mercoire:

Inside my heart is breaking 
My make-up may be flaking 
But my smile still stays on...


And so the wheel of life continues rotating, waiting for the hammer to fall.


One thing I noticed during the past fortnight was a greater propensity to cry. One was only to pass the garden where Gorby was interred, or stop by a favourite resting place and the floodgates would open unexpectedly and the works began of a lachrymal nature.  The outburst of wailing would then be followed by a period of calm, serenity and fond remembrance of the last few months. It was like having a day at the races, running the full gamut of emotions, from winning to losing. 

One moment I would be as joyful as a  lottery winner from 

Prague, singing rhapsodies (OK, Prague is not actually in Bohemia, but would anyone have understood  Karlovy Vary, Ústí nad Labem or Liberec rhapsody?). 

Then I would be transported to a dark world of sadness inhabited by the evil Ming the Merciless, with no sign of light, not even a Flash....aaahhhhaaa.

Of course this emotional seesaw has been covered before in previous entries (Andrew's World passim: ), but dealing with the real sadness of death brought out a raw response resulting in unexpected blubbering; at work, in the garden, in the car, even once in the supermarket.


I have never particularly cried much, even during the mass psychosis that enveloped the UK after the death of Diana in 1997, I remained immune to the outpouring of grief for a celebrity and ex-Royal.

The whole country became a living entity, bonded together in an ever growing hysteria for a woman most had never met. Waxing in remorseful gibberish, on the radio, gaga was all you heard.


Even after the death of mother last year, I grieved deeply inwardly but was unable to cry and felt somehow ashamed that I couldn't? But over the loss of a small kitten, I wept profusely and ran the full panoply of emotion. This over emphatic feelings of emotion can in some part be attributed to the drug Prednisone.


Now Prednisone has featured rather a lot in my world since July, after the transplant. As a  glucocorticoid prodrug it features as part of my anti rejection regimen. I have been rushing headlong into a parallel universe where strange emotions, facial swelling, increased body weight, raised body temperature, depression, mania and psychosis cosy up and entrap me in their clutches. Some of the reaction are so peculiar, that I begin to ponder whether Im going slightly mad, and as a result I want to break free from these side effects.

Even Biggles, the dopiest papillon known to papillon kind, is currently on the same drug, on account of his irritable skin, much to the bemusement of my renal clinic.

At my last visit to see the team, they commented on my visage, noting that it was somewhat "puffy". Aghast I consulted the mirror, horrified at the fat bottomed ghoul staring back.

After a period of reflection and consultation the renal team have decided to reduce the dose of Prednisone in an attempt to counter some of the side effects, in particular the weight gain and the emotional swings..........

and roundabouts, not to mention the excessive overheating.
So instead of 15mg (three tablets), just 10mg has been incorporated into my morning tablet popping fest to see if that has any effect, without compromising the rejection abilities.
My emotions are still swinging, perhaps not quite as fiery before, but I would leave that assessment to my family, who might well reserve judgement, and as for the excessive body heat, I can still feel the mercury rising......