Crohn Age Pensioners

Its been a few days since my first infusion of Infliximab (Remicade). 

Pre-infusion the treatment itself had mainly been touted to me as a kind of one-fix-all wonder drug: from patients and doctors alike. I'm not a daftie though; when it comes to medication anyway. 

I research and study what I'm about to undergo. I learn about how it will affect me, for better or for worse, and weigh up the pros and cons against the alternatives. 

The alternative for me at the moment is Humira. Another biologic which is injected by the patient. Or nothing. NO THANKS.

I opted for the Infliximab as it's also used in treating Arthritis (which I also suffer from) and I hoped I'd benefit from that easing a little, alongside treating my Crohn's. It was a relatively easy decision for me to chose infusions over injecting myself as I'm not massively brave in opting to inflict pain on myself and lord knows my BF would rather eat his own eyeballs and/or balls with tomato sauce than do it for me. 

My first infusion went without a hitch, aside from the usual multiple games of hunt the vein, from which there are no winners. My arms and hands are so pathetically pale and my veins play hide and seek with more dedication than Julian Assange. Five attempts to cannualise me later, we were good to go. 

Man, that several hours nailed to a chair with a drip hanging from me were B O R I N G. 

I read half a novel, daydreamed about my cats and chatted about incontinence with 3 women aged approx 467886 between them. 

Thinking about it, Social Media is a bit of a godsend to me, it's a wonderful place to 'meet' patients of a similar age. In all my stays in hospitals I've never EVER met a woman in her 20's/30's. 

All pensioners. Not that there's anything wrong with pensioners. I love them! Some of my best friends are pensioners! Plus, I act and dress like one 99% of the time. It's just difficult to find someone to talk about the merits of Jon Hamm with when your fellow patients can't hear you or are focused on locating their missing teeth. 

Anyway, as always I digress. My treatment is underway and thus far I'm feeling like I'm in the grip of a four day long hangover, sweating like a pig, shivering like a Spaniard visiting Scotland, nauseous and my sea-legs are active and I HAVENT EVEN BEEN ON WATER. 

I'm hopeful though. I know it's very, very early days and I've a lot more ahead but I'm trying to maintain a good attitude about it. I had a wobble earlier and a woe is me moment so I find writing that down reminds me I'm being ridiculous. So in a week or so this ridiculous creature will know if my treatment is working and I can breathe a sigh of relief or go back to the diseased drawing board. Either way, I still know where my teeth are at all times so it's not all bad.