It’s been two years since my last injection. This blasphemous behavior makes me a little embarrassed and nervous to see the man who prescribes the medicine. I’m in a small room—waiting—surrounded by images on the wall of the human body splayed open to reveal the central nervous system.
To pass the time, and also to remain calm, I practice yoga. The yoga also gives me a feel of control—right before the god-like figure is going to come into my life again and review my history. He seems to be a good neurologist with a steady following, but I’ve met people in my Yoga for MS class that really say great things about their own Neuro. Another doctor might be more interested in alternative approaches to controling MS. I’m thinking of converting.
My Neuro enters the room and asks the same questions and performs the same physical tests that he does for all his MS patients. “Any new disability?”. He checks my reflexes, watches me walk down the hall, looks at my pupils. He’ll review my history, make some small talk, and tell me that I really should be on Copaxon or Gilenya. He bases this recommendation on the fact that in my MRI he can see two small black pin holes in the grey matter of my brain; noting that this demylenation could lead to disability.
As he talks it over with me, I sense that I’m becoming anxious and so I begin to focus on my breath. But I already know that I won’t go back to the medicine. I will continue to focus on yoga, diet, and meditation. If I mention these wellness tactics to the Neuro he’ll apatheticaly say , “good, keep it up.”
He releases me to the receptionist desk to schedule a new appointment. As I walk down the hall, I take a moment to reaffirm my faith in the holistic trinity—yoga, diet, and meditation.