I was diagnosed a long, long time ago in a land far, far away.
It was early 2006 in Maine, but that doesn’t sound as adequately poetic.
There were only three(3) medical options:
- A three times a week injection that left the injectee with flu-like symptoms for up to 48 hours. That meant the injectee had the flu perpetually for the rest of their life.
- A once a week deep muscle injection. It hurt, like you may suspect a deep muscle injection would. The soreness (kinda) subsided before the next week’s painful deep muscle injection.
- A daily sub-cutaneous injection delivered to rotating spots consisting of back of the right arm, back of the left arm, hip, stomach, then other hip. I was given a plastic device that depressed the syringe a specific amount to inject the specific amount of the medication inside. This was to avoid accidentally injecting into the muscle which, again, is painful. The goal was to inject into the layer of fat between the skin and muscle. I was training for a triathlon, but that’s for another post, and that did not leave much fat to puncture. Also, the medication was not strong enough to battle whatever was happening to my body. I had to switch to one of the other treatments I had very intentionally avoided.
It seemed all of the treatments, sanctioned or theoretical, involved sticking me with something. I have tried acupuncture, which was soothing but ineffective. I have tried live bee stings, which wasn’t terribly comfortable or effective at relieving symptoms of Multiple Sclerosis. It was determined later, after I had advanced to a dozen or so stings per appointment, that while live bee stings were a surefire treatment for arthritis, which I don’t have, they did nothing at all for Multiple Sclerosis, which I do have and will have. Ironically, it led to me getting a tattoo of a bee to honor the bees whose lives I took. It was still the piercing of skin, but it was worth it to me.
After the bad relapse and resulting hospital stay I have previously mentioned, I was prescribed/sentenced to what became a year and a half of chemotherapy. I was suspicious and certainly curious, but I was in no position to argue. I was poked again, many times.
Following the chemotherapy medication, the next medication was thankfully in pill form. It was a very welcome cessation before entering the relationship with my current treatment plan…which is delivered by bi-annual infusion. More needles.
Growing up, and that includes my brief time at university, I did not drink or smoke anything or drop anything. This was a very intentional choice, done so because I come from a conservative, mid-western, Lutheran background. That is one answer, but it fails to address control issues or fear. I knew that my grip on sanity was not always the strongest, and feared that any slip into intentional derangement may become permanent. I know now that I am not prone to addiction, but that is an unproven, hypothetical understanding. Science argues otherwise, and that is not an argument I want or can afford to lose.
I know it would be easy to lose oneself in the fog of addiction. Life as a patient, MS or otherwise, is difficult. There are countless substances that would seemingly alleviate both physical and emotional pain. The key word there is seemingly. Those substances lie, they provide the exact opposite of comfort and clarity. I see the poor souls holding cardboard signs under bridges and on highway off ramps, soliciting the financing for their needs. I can't ignore the hollow eyes and unsteady footsteps. I understand how easily that could be me or anyone seduced by the lies addiction tells. I want to ignore the disease I have and pretend it isn't as monopolizing as it is. I want to believe. I do not, and I want others to not take the awful route those substances blaze (that word is very intentionally used; it's subtle humor to break up the very serious topic).
That's a good segue to let you know there are other ways to create smiles, genuine ones. I tell jokes. I would like to tell you a joke. The smile that grows (hopefully) is authentic, organic, and costs nothing at all. You may not necessarily want to hear a joke. Enjoy the little things. A sunset is free and rewarding, so is a garden, so are laughing children. Once you see these things, you become familiar and accustomed to joy. You can become addicted to it in the most positive way.
#multiplesclerosis #humorascoping