Ladies and gentlemen, Jessie Spano.
So today’s the big day.
In just a few hours, I’ll be at the doctor’s office, getting what is either a drug that may heal me and give me the relief I’ve waited for for two years — or I won’t. Or I’ll get the placebo, which won’t heal me and won’t give me relief, and will keep me waiting for the relief I really really need.
The good news is that after my appointment was delayed for two weeks, those days actually went quicker than I expected. I can’t believe “the big day” is finally here. Between being busy at work and then having to travel to Minnesota for a photo shoot (how I survived the cab rides, the flights and the actual day-long shoot, I am not so sure), I managed to stay mostly occupied and now it’s February 10.
And now that it’s February 10, I wish I could say I’m filled with optimism and positivity and I’m so sure I’m going to get the drug and in no time I’ll be feeling better and running and spinning and yoga-ing my little heart out.
The reality, though, is that I am terrified.
Like the kind of terrified that had me in hysterical tears alone in my apartment last night.
You picked a good time to be traveling for work, Brian. You wouldn’t have wanted to witness this. I was also watching “Glee” when the breakdown began, so you would have been extra thrilled with all of the emotions and the singing and the general excitement going down. P.S. I charged, um, I’m not sure how much money to your iTunes account while you were away. It was an emergency because I ran out of free “Scandal” episodes on Netflix. Love you!
So yeah, I am scared.
Because here’s the thing: Last spring, I had been pretty sick for a while and I was super frustrated, and my doctor at the time decided to start me on Humira. We had really high hopes for the Humira, and I was sure it was going to be my miracle drug. I put a lot of faith and energy into convincing myself that with those first four injections (ouch), I was going to feel better right away.
Well, it’s been a year, and we know the Humira never worked. And neither did the 6 MP. Or the prednisone. Or the budesonide. Or the lovely Canasa (meh, go ahead and Google that one if you’re so inclined). Or the methotrexate.
Now, as much as I want to be so optimistic and so hopeful that this clinical trial is going to be what finally gets me better, I also don’t want to set myself up for disappointment and disaster.
I cannot bring myself to think about being sick any longer.
I can’t think about watching another season change from my couch.
I can’t think about what the hell I’m supposed to do next if this doesn’t work.
I can’t think about keeping my entire life on hold while my health continues to deteriorate.
I can’t think about the toll this has all had on my relationships already, and I can’t think about putting my loved ones through this anymore. They go through this as much as I do, and that sucks and it’s unfair. Sorry, mom, dad and Brian. You’re the real troopers here.
So I will just think about getting better. Because that’s better than the other options.
I’ve mentioned before, I’m sure, that I tend to look at life cyclically. With each month, I find myself looking back at where I was during that month the previous year. Not to compare; I just always sort of instinctually (that’s not a word? really red squiggle line?) take note.
On February 10 last year, I was in Colorado skiing with Brian and two of our friends. That trip was my Christmas present from Brian and it was awesome…except for the fact that I was super sick and Crohnsing up a storm the whole time.
February 10, 2012, was mostly unmemorable. I was fine, I was running, I was happy I’m sure.
And that brings us to February 2011. It was very memorable. I was going through some major life changes — an unexpected breakup that led to a very unplanned apartment move, namely.
February 11, 2011, was in many ways the “first day of the rest of my life.” That was the day I had my “audition” for the Run for the Rabbit campaign and it was the day I met Brian. Aw. It was two days before that big breakup and it was the day my life made a big left-hand turn and everything changed, but kept moving forward.
So maybe today is the day I get to make another left-hand turn. Maybe today, February 10, is the day I’ll get the drugs that will make me feel better, and maybe on February 11, I’ll wake up feeling like a new, healthy, happy person, and I’ll keep moving forward.
My parents sent me a new outfit to wear to my appointment today. It’s my “Get Well ASAP” outfit and it’s a tracksuit and just putting it on makes me feel better instantly.
I’m not sure exactly what the appointment today entails. I know it’s called a “Randomization Appointment,” so it’s basically the day I become a number in the study and not a name (how sad!). I was told to plan to be there for at least six hours, which is how long the infusion will take (the medicine — or placebo, but hopefully not — is administered via IV).
I hope my next update is about how I am starting to feel better, and my fevers are gone, and my hair isn’t falling out, and the night sweats have stopped, and I’m visiting the bathroom far less frequently and I’m not in pain anymore.
If that’s not the case, I’m gonna need another tracksuit.
And some more money in my iTunes account.
See you on the other side!
No, that sounds scary, like I’m dying, which I’m not, even though it feels that way sometimes. I don’t plan to die at this appointment. Try again?
The sun’ll come out tomorrow! See you sometime after that!