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“April Comes She Will”– I have always loved that Simon and Garfunkel song and it played in my head a lot in the weeks that followed my referral to the MS Center.  When that April day inevitably arrived, my husband and I left at the crack of dawn to drive the hour and a half to my appointment.  We arrived about an hour early but that was fine, we didn’t know if we would hit traffic. I was oddly excited. Was I giddy because the day I had been waiting for, no matter how scary, had finally arrived? Was I in sheer denial?  Or was it the relief of finally being diagnosed? I can’t say for sure.  While I  waited to be called, I watched the people come into the waiting area.  One man had a cane, a woman was pushed in on a tilt recline wheel chair, another came in with a preschooler and presumably her husband.  I was a little distracted. There were several flat screen TV’s with MS trivia scrolling.  Who ever heard of such a thing? I wasn’t reading it but I kept looking at it.  When I was finally called, my husband asked if I wanted him to come in.  I declined, though in hindsight I wish I had said yes.  The MS specialist didn’t look a day over 25, she had to have been at least 30 though right? We sat down and the conversation immediately went in the “definite” direction.  It was clear that she wasn’t here to decide if it was MS, rather she was here to treat that which was already diagnosed. I hate being the last to know. Maybe I really was in denial.  She examined me and our conversation turned to Disease Modifying Drugs to control my relapsing remitting multiple sclerosis (RRMS).  I had read everything I could find about MS before the appointment so obviously I had already researched the various options she laid forth. In a matter of minutes it was decided that Copaxone was my drug of choice; strangely enough I knew that would be the one before I had even gotten there.  Copaxone is a daily injectable, which sounded a little scary, but seemed to have the least side effects.   It was going to be fine. I explained to my husband over lunch afterward, that my miracle drug was going to trick my immune system.  The medicine was going to create fake T cells for my over active immune system to attack thereby sparing my myelin sheaths. Better living through modern chemistry.  I was extremely stoic. That evening I cried for about three minutes when we went to bed.  I told my husband I was scared.  It was a rare show of emotion over this as I have been extremely calm and optimistic for most of the year since that day.

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