Not Shooting Up: Ep. 17 (/1?)

The End of an Era

Guys, I wouldn’t blame you for thinking I’d forgotten about you. It’s been three months, so let me do some explaining.

look — my sessions with Dr. Sayre have been unconventional, but the man gets results.

As someone who loves a good bit, I have to admit that, after spending decades injecting myself on a weekly basis, having my body decide that “I have a chance to do the funniest thing” as soon as I make it into content is kind of perfect.

In short: during my little media blackout, I’ve been trialing a new medication in pill form to replace my Xolair. It quickly proved to work, but, out of an abundance of caution, I didn’t want to mention anything here until my insurance company cleared it.

Now that I’m holding my first Rx fill in hand, I can say it: no more needles — for now.

no joke: when I went back into my phone, this is literally what I wrote down for medication instructions

Obviously, this raises some questions about the future of this column, so please accept the first (and last) episode of the webseries “Amanda Takes a Pill” — immediately canceled on account of boredom.

What’s next?

• You can still expect periodic “Infusion Diaries" for the time being. In another wild development, I recently learned that I could have been self-injecting my infliximab THIS ENTIRE TIME instead of spending hours hooked up to a bag, but my current insurance company doesn’t cover the switch. Since I’m anticipating a change in coverage within the next year, there’s a nonzero chance that we may be back to “Shooting Up” in my bathroom instead of staring at my feet in a medical recliner. Watch this bureaucratically-determined space, kids.
  

• Out of respect for my craft, my meat-sack seems to be working on a one-in, one-out basis: while my medication regimen has streamlined, I’ve recently learned that I have hypermobile joints. While less than delighted by the announcement of Yet Another Thing, I’m also having the exciting, disorienting experience of realizing that I can mitigate types of pain that I thought I just had to live with — not to mention having an explanation for grab-bag physical qualities I’d dismissed as quirks. (i.e. always leaning on counters/standing on one leg, bizarre sitting postures, giant mystery bruises that make my legs look like a Rothko painting, and, of course, rapid-onset clumsiness.)

  

  you know who you are

  So, if the idea of hearing about the humbling process of re-learning how to walk in your 30s appeals to you, I have good news.

as Socrates once said: ergo, physical therapy.

Stay tuned for next week’s infusion! Until then, I remain bendily yours.