“You’re at the highest dose,” my rheumatologist told my husband and me yesterday afternoon and continued, “but, I’m on the fence as to how to move forward. I’m not sure if we should wait and see the full effects of the methotrexate or to try something else.” I’ve been on 20mg of methotrexate for 6 weeks and have not seen the change I had hoped for. In fact, the major change has been that I am sick 2.5 days of 7 from the medication and feel it wear off, as my hands and feet (etc.) feel tight, and puffy on Friday afternoons. So that gives me about three days a week where things are potentially okay (depending on the day/week). My doctor repeated, “The goal is no stiffness and pain.”
As an ending note, my doctor decided biologics with a lower dose of methotrexate may be the next step. I have to have a chest x-ray and he will be contacting my insurance to see what they will cover. I can’t help but feel terrified all over again. There is something oddly comfortable about consistency. I know what to expect and, although it is not great or even good, I find comfort in the known.
The idea of giving myself shots, further poisoning my body, and adding new risks make me feel uneasy, actually terrified for now. But, on the other hand perhaps my body will respond better and I will get days back? The statistics aren’t awesome and I feel myself wallowing in sorrow at the loss of my health and poisoning of my body, again. It comes and goes. Thankfully, pity party ice cream was readily available. Chocolate covered peanut butter filled pretzels in vanilla ice cream swirled with peanut butter. Yummmmmmy. I owe you that recipe.
I find myself daydreaming about medical remission. It happens, right? Is it good to be hopeful? One day at a time. That’s all we can do. I do know I am not in absolute agony anymore and am thankful to come this far.