There are few days on my calendar that are written in pen. An average day is fluid and a pencil is the wisest tool. But today was blank save three words scrawled in red pen: "Last f@cking one” (sorry, Mom).
Today was the last infusion. The last time I will take medicine in a needle, a bag, or a pill for MS. The last time this disease will take another day from me.
My bright red bag (a gift from my LSD family), heavy with a weighted blanket and fuzzy socks, was packed for the day. Check. Girls on the bus. Check. Dog happy and watered. Check. Fave black cardigan. Check. Fave T-shirt on underneath (a gift from my friend Jess). Check. Husband en route to meet me at the hospital. Check.
The drive to Boston was alone and I am glad it was. I cranked some Eurythmics (for you millennials: the ginger diva, Annie Lennox, was a gift given to us in the '80's. Google her) followed by some OMD (again, Google "Every '80's teen soundtrack") and got myself psyched for the day, and that got me thinking about what's ahead: No more meds. No more progression of the disease. No more spots on my brain. No worries about what a relapse will do to my body. No fears of falling down or not being able to walk. No worries that my kids will stop asking me to run around with them because I'm always too tired. No questions about cognitive decline. No visions of losing my sight.
I can erase all of those worries from my mind. I can erase this disease from my memory like HSCT erased it from my immune system. Holy eraser dust, Batman! This is as close to cured as it gets!
I can't tell if I'm flushing from excitement or the bag of liquid soldiers being infused.
I'd love to tell you more, but I'm wiped out and I honestly can't see straight from exhaustion. Also, no, LSD stands for Lake Shore Drive. My street. What were you thinking it meant?
I'll get some sleep and we'll talk more later. I penciled you in for tomorrow.