I’ve travelled down this MS path for ten years with Copaxone firmly by my side. In a world where MS shakes most constants in your life to the very core, Copaxone was always there. What started as a daily injection became a thrice weekly commitment which helped to ease the dread and anxiety that surrounded every injection. As time went on, my skin suffered from the repeated puncturing. Lipoatrophy is the official term for fat wastage caused by repeated injections. No amount of rotating my sites seemed to ease the hollowing and caving in of my flesh. I reminded myself that it was worth it. Each injection kept inflammation at bay. I exhaled a large sigh of relief as each annual MRI report came back stable. I reminded myself that our partnership was worth the toll on my mental health and the painful injection sites and post injection reactions. I reminded myself that it was worth the preoccupation on a Monday/Wednesday/Friday night. I reminded myself that it was worth the pain especially on Saturday mornings when my swollen skin couldn’t tolerate any tight clothing.
However, I got a recent phone call that changed my relationship with my DMT. A missed call from my GP three days after my annual MRI was hardly going to have a happy or congratulatory tone to it. I had dodged this bullet every year for ten years and my luck had finally run out. The MRI discovered two new plaques in the right side of my brain. Inflammation had reared its ugly head like a whack-a-mole that needed to be quashed. Luckily both lesions were in cerebral wasteland and didn’t cause a disabling relapse. Nevertheless, I needed a new plan of attack. Copaxone is an entry level drug and I had to accept that my MS now needed something stronger to keep it in check.
At the moment, I’m stuck in a medical ‘no man’s land’; I keep injecting myself while I await my new treatment, but I know that in the interim Copaxone isn’t the friend that it once was. Now the painful injections don’t seem worth the heartache. However, the alternative treatments come with a frightening list of risks and possible side effects. I feel like I’m losing a friend that’s become more of a ‘frenemy’ in recent weeks. I’ll have a sharps bin shaped-hole in my life and a blue medicinal box in my fridge that I won’t know what to do with anymore. I had gotten used to declaring my medication during every trip through an airport. I would nervously carry a green bag packed with ice packs, hoping that the airport canine unit don’t find me. I had gotten used to the monthly routine of reminding my Dad to pick up my medication from our local pharmacy and reminding him of the outside temperature during summer months. I had gotten used to the safe, dependable nature of Copaxone.
The only constant in life is the fact that nothing is actually constant. Change is inevitable and I’m learning to roll with the punches. If I’m being honest with myself, maybe the new plaques were a blessing in disguise. Injecting myself had gotten so much harder in recent years. The two new white patches of inflammation on my annual MRI are my ticket on the Tysabri express which is hopefully going to carry me to a place where any new lesions will be kept at bay. I’ve heard good reports about Tysabri; it’s a potent yet well tolerated DMT. I look to the future with a hopeful outlook even if it is tinged with apprehension and uncertainty. The night of my final Copaxone injection will feel quite strange. I’ll raise a glass to you, old friend. I’ll be sad to see you go but also happy to see you leave my side and make room for a new companion.
The views and opinions expressed here are those of individual contributors and do not necessarily reflect the views of the Multiple Sclerosis Society of Ireland. Whilst every effort has been made to ensure accuracy of the information provided, the editor is not responsible for any error or inaccuracy contained herein.
If you have been affected by any of the content, please contact the MS Ireland Information Line on 0818 233 233.
Add new comment