Poison

For the first time in my MS drug taking history, I feel like I'm actually putting something extremely potent into my body.

I realise the box with the huge yellow 'cytotoxic' sticker should have been a bit of a clue, but somehow it doesn't seem to have properly registered until now.

Maybe it's because I've just completed my second treatment week of my second treatment year. And, in theory, that should be it. 

Maybe it's because I need to dig out my irradiated blood details because we're going away for a couple of nights and I need the card just in case.

Maybe it's because things look to be heading back to 'normal' and I can't hide my immune-supressed self in the house for work much longer.

Or maybe it's because I've actually felt quite rough taking the drugs this time round.

The thing with all MS treatments is that it's such a gamble anyway. There's a possibility they'll work, there's an equal chance they won't.

But all the time, we are putting chemicals into our bodies that, if we weren't unlikely enough to have this disease, we wouldn't dream of doing.

Sometimes I can see why people choose not to.

But what if these ones work, you think. What if they do better than the last ones, or the ones before that?

What if I win this time?

It's the thought pattern of a gambler.

And, quite often, that is what taking the treatments is like. A gigantic roll of the dice with your own body.

This time I chose to land on Cladribine.

Next time, who knows. 

But then maybe, just maybe, I won't need to roll again because Cladribine will do it's job. It's pretty important job of killing off those pesky T and B cells before they make their way to my brain and spinal cord.

And if it works, and good heavens, I really hope it does, then Cladribine, not gin, will become my poison of choice.

:: Poison by Alice Cooper