Yesterday was a bad day.
I cloaked it in gallows humour, jokes about not having time to die. An innocent email to the MS nurse (I have 21 bruises on my legs and arms. I don’t know where they are coming from. Should I be worried?). An email, a text, a phone call. The MS Nurse told me to go to emergency. Immediately.
To be fair, I did at least look at my calendar before I said no. I also looked at the symptoms and the treatment for ITP. Actually, I did that before I ever started the drug.
Here’s the thing. If I had a clotting disorder from my new MS medication, there isn’t a ton to be done. They’ll try the appropriate treatments and either I will respond or I will develop an inter cranial bleed and I will die. I’ve realized most of my MS drugs are like this. If all you get is nausea, you really haven’t gotten any side effects. It’s the permanent impairment and disability. Or the fact you die.
For a few hours, as a variety of medical professionals tried to assess how bad the situation was and what should be done, I carried on working.
And thought about what it might mean to die.
In the middle of a Monday. In the middle of an MBA. In the middle of a project. In the middle of a marginally good book.
In the middle of a life.
I am unlikely to die. There is potentially some concern, but it’s not life threatening. Right now it’s a watch and see. Hopefully I don’t develop full blown immune thrombocytopenia purpura.