The dream is simple – no more relapses. No more fear.
But as with all dreams, we wake up.
Campath. It has been a marvel. I adore it. I embraced it in the hospital. It quite literally gave me my life back but with a proviso. My neurologist told me I could expect ten good years. Yet at 37, that seemed an eternity.
A couple of days ago I met a wonderful woman who had double the number of infusions I had. Her story mirrored mine. Eight fabulous relapse-free years.
Now she is in a wheelchair.
I have slept badly. I jolt awake, feet twitching and burning, dark thoughts running through my mind unchecked. Believe me, I don’t fear a wheelchair. I fear the loss of control.
MS is weird. We have no idea what the future holds. Mine may have rainbows arcing over the next few years. Or it could be the opposite. Do many of us ‘wish’ we had an illness with a more predictable disease path?
So I kind of feel I am back to stage one. Two years ago, almost to the day, when I sat in my car, dreading the neurology meeting. I knew it would change my life. It did. And it keeps on changing.