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Selfie with the Space
Needle |
Zinbryta (daclizumab) last month, one line in the FDA press release “stuck” out
to me: “long-acting injection that is self-administered by the patient
monthly.” Injection. Self-administered. In other words or in plainer language
that anyone with multiple sclerosis can understand, the FDA is referring to
SHOTS. There is a reason I’ve written that in ALL CAPS. Because for years,
shots have FREAKED ME OUT. And just when it appeared giving yourself a shot for
your MS was going the way of the dodo and of friends to invite over for dinner
who consume gluten, this news drops.
The band LMFAO is famous (infamous?) for singing about shots. Steph Curry,
Ronaldo, and Ovechkin all enjoy taking shots. Ansel Adams was a shot expert.
Katniss Everdeen has an awesome shot. Me? I’m not a huge fan. Since childhood, I’ve
tried to follow a general rule: AVOID SHOTS. Getting diagnosed with multiple
sclerosis ten years ago, though, sure mucked that up. My options back then: a
daily shot, a few times a week shot, or a weekly shot—with a needle so large
you might mistake it for a Seattle landmark.
exaggerating my fear of needles for the purposes of blog humor, you would be
wrong. I gave up watching medical shows years ago because of needles. I cringe
and close my eyes if I catch a glance of someone getting a tattoo, even a
tattoo of a cute, carefree dolphin with sparkles and rainbows. Heck, I’ve
weighed the benefits/drawbacks of lockjaw to argue the possibility of evading a
tetanus shot.
Ovechkin likes to take
shots and give them. |
very first shot over a decade ago, it was an experience that I’ll remember
forever. And, unfortunately, so will poor Laura and the 5-foot-nothing
Panamanian MS nurse who had to prop up my lifeless body. Apparently, at the
time my brain was not comfortable with the fact that I was sticking a SHARP
NEEDLE into my PRECIOUS SKIN and then INJECTING MEDICATION. And by not
comfortable, I mean it went into total shutdown mode, which I discovered is not
recommended for a number of reasons. For starters, you need a functioning
brain. Second, you are holding a sharp needle. Third, a tiny, 50-year old
Panamanian woman is not the ideal person to support a 6-foot tall needle weeny
who just made himself pass out while holding a sharp needle.
bottom was sliding out of the chair, the nurse grabbed and supported my rear
end while Laura rather urgently sought assistance, or so I’m told. It would
have been a sight to see if I had not been unconscious, dreaming of riding a
rocket-powered Cheeto while lassoing cans beer (I’m just guessing here, but
such dreams for me seem plausible if not probable). The MS nurse gently slid me
to the floor and in moments I had the entire neurology department looking in on
me as I was shaken awake.
The closest I’ve ever come
to a tattoo. Note the sparkles! |
dawned on me that all was fine with the world. The universe did not implode,
Daniel Powter’s song Bad Day was still topping the charts (oh the irony), and
the Cubs didn’t win the World Series. Over a thousand shots later, I can say
with authority that giving yourself a shot—voluntarily, not under duress or
threat—actually is not too hard. Or that painful. Or that terrifying. Seriously.
What I am trying to get across: If I can do it, Mr. Needle Overreacting
Wimpy Scaredy Cat, you most certainly can do it. Trust me. Just get your brain
wrapped around the idea and go for it confidently, with purpose, knowing that
Dave broke down those barriers of self-afflicted shot embarrassment years ago.
It might take a little time to get into the swing of things and adjust to the
prick, but it’ll happen. You might screw up once or twice, and that’s okay.
You’ve totally got this. All that said, it might not hurt to do your first poke
on a padded surface.
Source: http://activemsers.blogspot.com/
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