So here we are. It's the last Saturday in my life that I will be unmedicated.
It's been seven years since I was first diagnosed with MS. I don't live dual lives so I guess I will never know if these last seven years would have been any different if I had not pursued a diagnosis. I certainly feel pretty good. A bit a tingling here, a bit of a buzz there... but nothing significant.
Up until now I don't think I have really seen MS, or at least my version of MS as serious. But with the impending commencement of daily injections bearing down on me now, it's no longer something I can shrug off. I'm not scared or anxious.... but feeling the weight of responsibility and inevitableness of it all. It would be irresponsible to not start medication now. Irresponsible for my future and for my family.
So with that decision made, now it's just the long wait until the nurse can come out and show me how to use the auto-inject. We have the medication - Copanxone, (henceforth to be known as "Big C") sitting in the fridge, staring out at me, waiting to inflict it's side effects upon my relatively healthy body.
Mr Neurologist, asked me how I felt when I entered his rooms and I said, oh you know, fine. I'm still breastfeeding, I've started exercising again (as if running after an active four year old and 16 month old isn't enough) and I'm exercising my brain again too, studying at uni, albeit extremely part time. Unfortunately this wasn't small talk. He said, in his serious, clinical, slightly eccentric voice, I've looked at your scans and you have three new lesions in your brain. They are small, the largest one is 3mm, in places were you wouldn't see symptoms, but they are recent and active. It's time to start medication.... choices... injections... blah... blah.... blah. Needless to say I didn't hear much after medication. I saw his lips moving, the words entered my ear canals, but bounced out. I watched him as he talked and he watched me. How many times has he had to say "start medication"? How often has he had to tell someone, who has lived with MS unmedicated for seven years?
I didn't cry straight away. My groom, who sat to the side and behind me stared firing questions, as mine had been wiped by a swift, single, neat press of the delete button. I looked around Mr Neurologist's desk for a box of tissues, but there wasn't one. Obviously I was the first bad news of the day. He looked at my face, rose from his chair, fetched the box and delivered them to me, right as I asked, is my life as I know it about to change? The tears just seemed to fall out of my eyes at that point.
I am by nature not a very accepting person. I don't just accept what someone tells me as true and correct, as I'm sure my groom would attest to. It's most likely annoying, but it has served me well in the past. I like to check things out for myself, hear both sides of the story, push through the muck and come up with what I would like to consider a carefully considered decision, answer or opinion. But when Mr Neurologist says it's time to start medication... then it's time.
Big C. Lots of unpleasant side effects to accompany the daily delight of daily injections! Mr Neurologist,"the injections sting". What he failed to mention was the sting is not your average, ouch that hurt but it's over now sting. It's more like a prolonged bee sting, that results in big red, lumpy welts that itch. You have to rotate the injection sites otherwise you end up with dimples where the Big C eats fat. (Shame it's localised.) It's ok to breastfeed because the molecules that make up the Big C are too large to pass into breastmilk and if they did they would most likely be broken down in the digestive tract. The jury's still out on whether breastfeeding will continue. I love breastfeeding, so I would like to continue for my own selfish motives, but is it right for the toddler?
Here's the kicker that everyone and every pamphlet has failed to mention. The Big C makes you FAT! Now if I'm going to get fat I at least, at the very least, want to enjoy it by eating good and delicious food and loads of it. And just one question... how do you get fat if everything else stays the same?
Lumpy Custard is the name of my blog. It's not perfect, but it's still delicious.
Saturday, December 11, 2010
The Count Down...
Posted by Lee-Anne at 10:32 AM