Infusion

Every month, for the past 33, I've pootled down to Gahanna, to have a potentially lethal, but very helpful drug mainlined into my blood. I started doing the drug, Tysabri, when it was pointed out that walking would not be an option for me if I didn't. I do like to walk, so I signed up.

The infusion cycle has worked out very well. I went from barely be able to walk at all, to pottering, if not charging about. I have my blood checked every couple if months, to check how dangerous it is for me to keep running the drug through my system. The last check I had said I was doing ok. I'm thinking about it today, as my blood got pulled yesterday for another check. 

The infusion itself is remarkably relaxing. I was initially terrified, but I now see it as a comfy chair, people who know what they are doing, putting the line in, and a time to chill out whilst listening to tunes. And coffee and sweets.

What does happen the day after the infusion, is that my blood has to settle. Yesterday I got home, ate a sandwich, then woke up at 4am. This morning was spent trying to distract my mind from the odd feeling the day after always gives me. I made the mistake of watching some death row documentary online. The attitude of the condemned is a little too familiar. Its not very helpful either. 

I think it is because MS has a certain, awful ending, that waits patiently,  until it decides its time. While it waits it comes after my health and physical movement, shutting things down when it gets bored.

The trick is not to let the plodding awful become everything that I think about, to not live in the debris strewn about by the ongoing battle. And not to judge, when it steals focus for a while.

This what its like the day after the infusion.