I finally started my new medication to treat my ankylosing spondylitis. I had my first Remicade infusion Monday. Now I guess it’s time to wait and see. The nurse told me that it could take up to six weeks before I feel any effects. Six weeks is a long time. I hope I get relief sooner than that.
I’ve been going to physical therapy for a few months to improve mobility as well. There is nothing better that the fuzzy sensation from the electrical stimulation machine. It helps alleviate pain so well that I was prescribed my own TENS unit. I finally got it yesterday. I went to bed with it on my lower back and kept it on while I worked today. I took it off a couple of hours ago and the pain has increased in intensity and determination. Pain seems to be intentional in gaining your attention. The object isn’t finding a cure. The object is to make it one more day.
One more day. I’ve dealt with five and a half years of one more days. Swapping medications and waiting for the new one to establish authority over my illness makes those days longer. Those days are harder.
I want to just vegetate on the couch like I used to when dealing with these flare ups. I’m working again, so I have to suck it up. I have other responsibilities. “Suck it up, Princess,” is something I occasionally hear. Sometimes I hear it from myself.
I’m not trying to turn this into a whine fest. This time yesterday I was telling myself, “One more day.” I’m saying it now and I will likely be repeating it tomorrow. I’m confident the medication will help. If not, I can go back to Humira and those dreadful injections. At least they are somewhat effective. I’m hoping for even greater relief on this new medication adventure. (I would say drug adventure, but that sounds more like an excursion with the late Hunter S. Thompson).
Just one more day.