Two down, two to go. I had the second Rituxan infusion yesterday. The process itself was much smoother this time, in part because we started earlier in the day and also because the IV itself was done at a faster rate. Here on Saturday evening, so far so good. I still have the feeling of being medicated and ‘heavy’ but the side effects aren’t as distinct as a week ago. This could be due to some other medication adjustments that happened this week, but regardless I am always thankful for a decent string of hours…as anyone with chronic illness can attest to. It won’t last, so the best thing you can do is take a deep breath and live life.

I’ve been thinking to myself recently about what it’s like to strive for those good moments in life. Through some of the support groups that I read online, it is fairly common to see those who get so disheartened that they no longer want to endure the routine of medicine and therapy for what is admittedly not even a guarantee that they will work or help. We wake up in the morning and go to appointments, take medicine and go to rehab, and then we hope. We pray that it was enough to inch in the right direction. Many times it isn’t. I wish I had an easy answer for those who struggle with this realization, but I don’t because it strikes me also. I can see the sympathy and concern in the eyes of my family and friends when we have to hesitate on everything from a house visit to chores or going to the movies. I see congratulations from other students and professors on getting through another semester somehow. I feel the encouragement from doctors that there are always adjustments we can make. But at the end of the day, it is hard, perhaps impossible, to convey just how difficult it is to be the one actually trapped in the cage.

 

To even have a chance to get out of the cage, I’ve fallen prisoner to modern medicine. It’s strange to think about in a way. Ten years ago if I had a headache, ultimately I still had a choice on whether or not to take an Advil. I was still in control. Now, these infusions and tablets are the ones that hold the keys to tomorrow. Without them, I can’t see how my story goes next, and I am too curious of a person to make myself or my loved ones endure blank pages that were yet to be written.

Nothing lasts forever, and every season in life has its purpose. What can I learn from this? Sometimes I think I know, sometimes I’m not so sure. But for anyone struggling, don’t give up. Remember what it was like to catch fireflies when you were younger? In the pitch darkness you can grab a jar and find the fireflies that light up the night periodically. These are the good moments we still have in life…experiences with family and friends that are still bright. Collect as many as you can in the jar and focus on those lights. The sunrise will be here soon enough.