Greener Pastures Await

Trains and railroads have been used as metaphors for decades, especially in music. The Grateful Dead’s songs with references to trains number in the double digits.  Trains and railroads represent journeys, leaving sadness behind, seeking greener pastures, and even deliverance. (Why is it I can’t use that word – deliverance – without conjuring up thoughts of banjos and Ned Beatty)?

Yesterday I began my journey towards greener pastures, seeking deliverance from my ailments, via the train I call Tysabri.  I, and my “M.S. Friend” Brenda, met up at our local infusion center early in the morning. If you haven’t read other Tysabri Travels articles here in the Sunshine, I’ve paired up with another PWMS and we’re doing our infusions together.  It’s the buddy system and we call it the Ty-Ty Sisterhood.

 After stacks of paperwork, we headed into two, comfy chairs, both of our hearts filled with great hope.  I was admittedly a little nervous.  My last experience with a D.M.D. (Copaxone) left me with bad memories – an IPIR and allergic reaction that were very scary.  Of course I was worried about a repeat performance.  But, other than the slight worry about a reaction, and some worries about my recuperating pup Oboe who was left at home with this puppy Grandpa post-surgery, my mind was clear.  All I could imagine were the great months ahead with my M.S. symptoms being more manageable.  I pictured future MRI results with no new lesion development.  I even silently wished for healing for my 16 or so existing lesions.

The needle poke to start the I.V. was nothing.  After becoming accustomed to injecting myself with drugs regularly I’ve pretty much become immune to needle jabs.  I compare the whole process to receiving IVSM, without all the crazy steroid side effects.  An IV hung above my head for roughly an hour and then the staff proceeded to watch both Brenda and me for an additional 60 minutes as a saline drip ran through our veins. I asked the reason for the saline and we were told that it’s to keep the vein open just in case one of us had a reaction and they needed to pump in another medication.  The kind and delightful nurse took our vitals ritually every 15 minutes.  She served us snacks and beverages and would have even served us lunch if we wanted it.  The rooms had individual televisions in case we needed entertained, but we brought our own entertainment – the hubby – and didn’t need to turn up the volume once.  We did get scolded once after she and I and the hubby turned the back corner of the center into a comedy club – we like to have fun wherever we go.  After neither of us turned into puffer fishes or had our heads spin around in Linda Blair fashion, we were sent on our merry ways.

I suffered from a rather nasty headache after taking a nap a couple of hours after the treatment; a very common post-infusion side effect.  From what I’ve read it could be months before I notice any significant changes from Tysabri.  In the meantime, I’ve decided to look at the process as a gentle sunrise leading me to greener pastures. Twenty-eight days and counting until the train pulls out of the station once again. 

(Thanks to everyone for your well wishes and good thoughts.  Oboe says “woof woof” for the thoughts sent in his general direction as well.  He’s feeling much better, too).