Injection needle, fridge. Taking out another pre-filled syringe to ward of future multiple sclerosis relapses.
To others? A scary thing, a daily habit they could not fathom.
To me? Now, the fluid of my life. For my life.
It feels cold in my hand, but warm to my heart. The difference between MS flaring up and injecting Copaxone (Glatiramer acetate) is a riddle easily solved: “Yes!”
Warming up the fluid by rubbing it in both hands, softens the impact of the fluid under my skin. Subcutaneous. Latin for “beneath the skin.”
With my MS diagnosis nearly nine years ago, a whole new dictionary was instantly added to my daily vocabulary. Injection needles became syringes. MS relapses, exacerbations. Copaxone became Glatiramer acetate. Under the skin, subcutaneous. Daily self-injecting in those early days, often a war with my head, a battle of the wills.
The needle, so needed. The fluid, water of life. Not stopping my illness progressing, but holding back relapses. MS, as always having more than one meaning, one more way of living it.
The needle, plunging into my skin, that one nanosecond which reminds me the needle is there for a reason.
Chronic. Demyelinating. Neurological. Immune system. Relapsing/Remitting. Degenerative. Inflammation. Brain and spinal cord. Progression.
One small syringe, too many tag words attached.
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