do I really need to apologize to my blog? no, I don't. so I shan't.
today's blog entry is brought to you from lush & lovely Eugene, Oregon. having packed up our life on a whim & trucked north in late July, J. is flourishing at his new job while I hold down the fort & keep the dust bunnies at bay. we left one bird in California & added a new one to the mix-- a much better fit for everyone, indeed.
everyone, this is Finden.
I found Finden via Craig's List, where you're not supposed to sell pets, but you can charge a re-homing fee of up to $200. there's a dozen loopholes there, but the bottom line is I got an amazingly well-behaved, ~$600 parrot for $200. granted, he did need a thorough vet check, costing us an added ~$400. I guess that makes him a truly $600 parrot. even so! this little guy & I bonded immediately, & he's been a dream bird.
these days my MS is held at bay, but I've disdainfully hopped off the Tysabri train.
reports of new PML cases trickled to me on the internet, & I was naively disgusted when the "care line" offered by the drug company did nothing but damage control. in retrospect, I shamed myself mentally. i have been on the other side of the drug company game, keeping study animals alive for sake of the results, to help in pushing drugs through the pipeline. I felt that staying on Tysabri was gambling with my life a little more defiantly & helping prove their numbers for new, unsuspecting patients. I hadn't had any adverse affects, bu I was coming up on having used it for 1 year, not too far behind the new PML patients of 14 & 17 months.
with my husband & my father's blessing (my main supporters when it comes to the decisions involving my health), I planned with my neurologist to take a 1 month wash-out period, & started on Copaxone in the beginning of September. daily injections aren't awesome, but neither is the looming threat of a possible lethal, viral brain infection. my husband sweetly does my nightly injections with much empathy, which soothes a lot of the emotional pain each injection brings. I'm doing my best to stay consistent with the time & notation, but other than the lack of aesthetic my bruised & bumpy injection sites present, it's an overall depressing exercise.
some nights I cry in fear & anxiety of the future, imagining my body crumpling prematurely from all these drugs I ingest & inject. other times I bravely endure the pain, which I do my best to describe to my husband as "a bee sting on top of a Charlie horse." the heating pad suggested does little to soothe me, but I apply it any how, patting or smoothing over the area, as if it'll help.
despite some rough nights, I'm diligent in my optimism. I enrolled in school yet again, this time with a camouflage-garbed, tattooed 'cheerleader' on my side. (read: My Husband, J.) I keep the house the best I can. I have a real yard now, with a lawn to fret over, weeds to thwart & squirrels to shake a fist at. some days still yawn before me, long & lonely until J. comes home well into the evening.
I think that's all I feel like blogging about right now. I'll again attempt to keep this place updated. I'm leaving you with another picture of Finden, because he makes me smile with his silly sense of humor.