Round Two

It has been a while since I’ve put any words, or thought, into writing here. So, I am going to stretch my memory.

At last glance I was dealing with the aftermath of Lemtrada and its first five days of infusion. While I haven’t put pen to paper (or fingers to a keyboard) a lot has happened since.

After I finished healing from the first round, I found myself getting back into a routine. We went bought a new camping trailer and spent the summer either camping or hiding from wildfires. The year 2019 was a scary wildfire season that had us on an evacuation alert. Once that had passed, I found myself looking forward to the next round of Lemtrada. In November I chatted with the doc, and we set round two for late January 2020. Three days all with steroids. 

It will be a breeze. The three days came and went without a hitch.

I arrived on day one (a Monday), settled into an infusion chair and watched the nurses prepare me for the day. I was familiar with the process, so I just laid back into the chair that offered me a strange familiarity. A younger fella came in and settled into the chair beside me. I noticed a slight limp to his gait, but otherwise he seemed in okay condition. After the drip started, I became comfortable with my surroundings. I opened my iPad to play some games.

After a bit I observed my neighbour had taken a break from his computer and phone. I couldn’t help eavesdropping as he was two feet away from me – It sounded like he was working remotely. He laid back and looked around. I thought it might be a good time to feel out a conversation. I introduced myself and we began some idle, yet awkward, small talk. He spoke briefly about his work while he pointed at his computer. He offered that he was an engineer, and the project he was on could not afford him the time away for the infusion.  

Curious I asked, “what kind of engineer are you?”

I’m thinking either it’s either electrical or chemical. Perhaps he’s engineering a new roadway or fixing a water system somewhere.

“A good one,” he responded, with an air of superiority. 

“Uggh,” I thought to myself.

Tone and substance—that conversation is over. I couldn’t tell if his answer was to convince me, or himself. I observed he spoke rather abruptly to others on the phone. Well, I didn’t bother to attempt any more conversation with him again for the remainder of the three days. I just don’t have time or patience for that.

My three days of round two passed without much substance. I sat there and loaded up with steroids and Lemtrada. Having the steroids everyday was great as I felt really good by the end of each day and by the time the three days was done, I was excited and ready to go.

The one thing that no one tells you about the elevated feeling while on steroids, comes at a great cost.

The withdrawal is brutal. I was later told that coming off steroids is the equivalent, or worse, than an opioid withdrawal.

And brutal it was. I left the clinic on Wednesday and by Friday I was feeling pretty low. By Saturday, I couldn’t get out of bed. I had no strength to get up. No strength to move at all. Going to the bathroom was a challenge.

That lasted for two days.

I slowly recovered strength, and my energy restored as I sat in my chair for the next two weeks. I was essentially quarantined for the next month. I remember going out too early after the last round and the sickness that followed. 

Ohh—that was something I never want to go through again. 

I spent my time in quarantine, then a month later the rest of the world joined me. COVID struck and governments everywhere demanded their people stay home. History was made. Many narratives written.

I used this time as an opportunity to put my photography skills to use, especially for night sky photography. I was amazed at how empty the highways were, especially at night. I travelled one highway that, much further down the road, was closed due to flooding. It was impassable. So, they had a 24-hour traffic control person near the city that informed motorists. So empty, and boring, were the highways at night that, as I passed the traffic control truck, I observed the occupant fast asleep.

I at least got out to do my thing. No COVID is going to attack my compromised immune system.

But—my feet are still numb.