Absolutely Fabulous?

Am I starting to do absolutely fabulously? I’ve seen how many Enbrel (or any biologic) patients with AS don’t ever get full pain relief- ever even when it’s deemed to be helping. When the biologic is working, it means the pain has reduced and damage is slower. That’s all. And sometimes it’s not enough. Patients are “on treatment” but STILL can’t take walks because of pain, still can’t sit long, still can’t go for coffee with their friends. (Naming things real patients have mourned about.)

It’s hard.

But it’s also better.

I am on many painkillers including Tramadol. And I still have to go try the SI joint injections into both sides- when I’m better. So maybe there might yet be relief from those. Last time I thought there wasn’t any relief till it wore out and then I realised it had partly worked after all. It’s like being on a biologic. You can’t always tell because you’re still in pain.

I got distracted! But, it’s also better.

I sit here after two nights of no sleep. After a flare up that began on Monday but has totally disappeared!! It’s never gone away this fast. My last Enbrel injection was on Friday. I don’t know when I’ll be able to inject again thanks to this virus. I need this not only for my bones but for my lungs. It can help slow down the deterioration caused by AS.

Guys, I’m sorry I’m not as coherent as normal. I’m not feeling great at all. My chest is on fire and it feels like it’s crackling inside. But here’s my point.

Last night when I was on the phone with my husband (He’s always traveling) I told him that I thought I’d turned a corner regarding pain and that I think it’s the Enbrel. I had not had to take my Tramadol in the afternoon, in fact, I didn’t take any painkillers in the day time. I usually take three in the morning, sometimes one half way between morning and midday, another three after midday, and three in the evening. But when we spoke on the phone at around 7pm, I’d last had pain tablets in the morning. And I was going to only take the two lighter type of pain tablets- NOT the opioid.

In the night I kind of regretted not taking anything stronger, but the pain was bearable! And that was without the Trepiline I also take at night. I’d forgotten to take it and it makes me groggy if I take it late, unable to study my Bible before the children wake up. Which was ironic because I was so sick from this virus that I didn’t study my Bible anyway. But here’s the thing. I’ve only taken two pain tablets because of the ACHE I have. It’s not sharp. It’s not as if it’s bone grinding on bone like normal. It’s the level of pain I last had in my late 20s!! I feel weird! Like I’m floating! (That might be lack of oxygen talking, or my sinus infection but let’s not go there!)

I read memoirs by other sick people and so many family members and members of the public and church folk give money towards medical bills, travel costs etc and it’s lovely. But that doesn’t happen in Africa. I don’t go to the pharmacy each month and feel bitter about the costs. But reading those books does remind me of how different things are here. But more importantly, I HAVE received! Three people have given me money in the past year. I don’t know how to explain what this means. I don’t have anyone to come help me sweep or mop. So to have someone give money just randomly means the world to me and they will never be forgotten.

I may not have “all these people” giving but I know that those I give to right now, would give to me if they could. I know we love each other and feel terribly for each other. And I know they would come help me clean or put laundry away or cook. One even stayed away after wanting to specifically come and clean when she was sick because of how much she loves me. She gave me health, in a sense – a gift better than money- and at a time when we only knew of one bad lung function. It was in November. Maybe by then my lung diffusion capacity had already also decreased as found in January.

Each payment I make, I remember the money gift that came all the way from Kenya. Prayers do go far. Checking in makes me feel loved. But Enbrel costs money. And so today, I thank my faithful friend who regularly comments on my posts. She makes me feel heard when she does, it helps, knowing I’m not writing into air. And she sacrificed for me despite never having met me physically.

Today, I’m going to be real. Every kind of gift of love matters. But when I realised that though we increased our costs by going to a higher medical aid plan, we would ALSO need to pay R2000 per set of Enbrel injections, my heart sank. I looked at the pharmacist in despair. And she too was upset. Money counts. And knowing that someone gave gives me strength. I don’t despair for long because I remember the gifts. God will provide. He’s already provided sisters who love and check and ask and worry. And money.

That’s the reality. Prayer only goes so far. My feeling thankful despite sickness won’t pay the medical costs. And so, today I focus on money. Not the one I’m lacking. But the one I was given. When I pay, I breathe a prayer of thanks for Flydah, Abby’s mama, who didn’t let borders get in her way. And I pay pretending she’s right there with me.

Let’s see how long this reduced pain lasts. And let’s hope I get better quickly so I can keep injecting. Find someone near you who needs the same and give your time or your money. You know you’ll feel good and I know God will be feeling warmhearted over you when you do. You might be the one to help someone get over their despair.