And the winner is...more chemo!

Soooo. Yesterday I saw my neurologist.  He is a busy man who practically runs between patient beds and clinical rooms and doesn't seem to stop. He is an oddly attractive character who wears tight shirts and has a curiously groomed moe. This is, of course, irrelevant but it helps set the scene. I suspect he also moonlights as a comedian as he possesses brilliant comic timing and loves to take the piss out of me whenever the opportunity presents itself. My partner, Wolfgang, and I agree that he is very likeable, especially when he has good news.
So. The BIZ. After the initial how-do-you-dos we got right down to it. Short story long: he feels I should do Rituximab for the next three years. I must admit I was shocked - I didn't realise we were looking at that length of time for treatment. I get it though. I had a very aggressive onset. He said he wants to see the MS totally quiescent for a reasonable period of time and I'm fine with that. I am just not ready to accept three years of chemo so I asked if we can take it six months at a time and he seemed amenable to that - especially since I am in my 'child-bearing' years. I find it hard to keep a straight face when confronted with that phrase. Regardless of the fact that it is...well, true. We discussed my general well-being, which is poor, and he attributed my propensity for illness to the chemo. It's an immuno-suppressant so what can you expect?

While Dr 'Micky' (I just decided on this nickname) was scrolling through my records he briefly brought up a profile MRI picture of a head and brain on his PC screen. I asked him excitedly if it was my brain and he looked at me seriously and flatly said, 'No. You don't have one.' HILARIOUS.

Re-enactment only. Really.

He agreed to walk us through my series of MRIs since I have never seen the pictures. Again, I got a shock. He pointed to several large white patches on different brain images. They were my very own multiple scleroses. Aww! I thought they would be little, tiny patches that had wreaked massive havoc on my body. In fact, the patches were big. Some seemed to be in the order of 1-2 cms in size. Not mms - cms. I decided that instead of spurting expletives, as is my want, that I would try to have a sense of humour about it. 'No wonder I felt so bad," followed by a lame chuckle. Ok - so maybe I said 'shit' instead of 'bad', but this is a massive improvement for me. There has been so much crap news this year that I must admit my language has regressed to that of a 13 year old boy experimenting with the feel of new swear-words on his tongue. Colourful, in a word. So what, though? I'm all grown up. NB: if you are a future employer, I don't swear at work. Much. And I am REALLY SMART.

So that's the end of that chapter for now. I can go back to having an appetite and not feeling crazy-nervous. I go back in a fortnight to see Micky to discuss blood test results and book in for two infusions of Rituximab, the wonder drug. I really need to gear myself up for it. The build up is full on and the infusion process is especially daunting. I am excited to see a new MRI of my brain though. MRIs have so far not resulted in good news for me so I'm hoping they show a diminishment of the lesions. I'm feeling quietly optimistic and I have a good feeling about it! Wish me luck!

P.S. Eyeballs look COOL in MRIs - you should google it!