Life’s a gamble..

Well it will be 20 years next July since I was diagnosed with the motherfucker I like to refer to as MS. I mentioned in one of my previous posts that I’d had my first MRI scan since diagnosis recently and I’d been called in to see my Neurologist to go through the results. The good thing to report is they found my brain – so anyone questioning my lack of, can naff off! It’s amazing how big it looks which possibly reflects why I’ve always had such a big head.

My neurologist was obviously intrigued by it, staring intently at his computer screen studying the Cerebrum lobes of my fore, mid & hind brain before drawing my attention to a tiny white patch which stood out like a lighthouse beacon, surrounded by a sea of cortex. He explained to me as he scrutinised the spot from different angles, that it was an active lesion and a new attack on my battered but still resilient watch & chain.

I wasn’t phased or surprised by his prognosis. My body via the old lesions scattered across the old gray matter has been under attack for well over 20 years now, and you get hardened to the up’s & down’s of living with the disease. However the last 12 months have been quite a battle. My spasms at night can be quite unforgiving and I’ve had less energy and strength, meaning less independence.

I’d sussed out there was a bit of deep action kicking off, so the news was good – you always need to know what your enemy is up to and poking it’s ugly head up, has finally opened the door for the chance of a counter attack. I’ve always been denied any treatments for my Primary progressive MS, but recent years have seen a sea change in research and resources to help tackle it.

Any active lesions are now getting targeted with new treatments and this bastard and maybe some of its buddies are now in the firing line for a good dose of mustard gas, well mitoxantrone a chemotherapy drug, derived from the scourge of countless conflicts, which helps reduce the number of relapses or attacks from MS.

We laughed at the irony of it’s evolvement as Omar, my neurologist, gave it the thumbs up, highlighting that it had a 65% success rate in helping to hold the line and regain some lost ground.

Obviously I didn’t need much persuading in agreeing to it’s participation.in my private war. At times you can be on desperate ground and any backup, even if it has a jaded history is always appreciated. It doesn’t come without its risks there’s a slim chance I could get Leukemia and my hair might fall out, but you know what life’s a gamble, and you’ve got to take your chances when they come along. If it all goes tits up, then I’ll just have the words ‘He was an unlucky fucker’ inscribed on my tombstone.

So the big push and it’s start date (sometime before Xmas) are now in Omar’s hands. It’s going to take 9 months with numerous intravenous infusions of refined poison, but I’m biting at the bit to get stuck in. It’s going to mean certain lifestyle changes. I’ve got to maximise my odds as my immune system will be shredded and any infections could upset the apple cart, so smoking spliff’s will be knocked on the head – a battle in itself, but I’ll be drawing the line at wearing a face mask as suggested by my sister.

I’ll keep you posted on developments.

 

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