Not the country, my Copaxone support nurse.
She calls me every month to check in on my "success" with the daily regimen of my injectable disease modifying drug.
It feels a bit like a pep talk but I realize that Teva pays a lot of people a lot of money to keep me on this $1,400 a month drug. I've already decided that I'm sticking it out until my next relapse, whenever that happens. I'm generally stable, with small things improving because of "Magic Hands" Ray and the physiotherapy exercises I manage to throw into each day and maybe the Copaxone.
Are the improvements because of the Copaxone? I don't really care. I'm not in a wheelchair, I've got 20/20 vision, I can generally control all of my limbs and I only need 7 hours of sleep.
When you've got MS, that's about as good as it gets. I have distinctly lowered the expectations for the remainder of my life.
It's going to be *AWESOME* living like this when I know that almost every woman I'm descended from lived to be 80+ with most of them getting beyond 85. I've probably got 50 more years of this shit to deal with.
I have my three months on Copaxone follow up with my neuro on 5 August, right after an appointment with my physiotherapist to figure out why yoga and pilates movements involving the movement of my head make me so dizzy I feel like puking.
This whole getting exercise thing is going really fucking badly.
I've been just obsessing on cigarettes and lattes for about 24 hours now, knowing that in my old life that would solve this weight problem by the first of October, but I'm pretty sure it would kill me now.
Age and MS have completely changed my problem solving skills, much to my near-instant-gratification-loving-brain's chagrin.
Oh, to be 30 again. It seems like a lifetime ago.
"50 more years of this shit to deal with" - that was my favorite part, how us youthful turds have so much more MS to go. I choose to ignore that fact mostly, otherwise I feel like I want to kill myself. Too bad I never actually could do that. I'm too chicken :-P
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