Monday, December 24, 2007
Twas the night before Christmas
and all through the place
not a muscle was twitching
not the ones on my face
The numbness was gone
From my old achy calves
And I didn't take any baclofen,
not even halves.
I in my jammies and my
boyfriend in tow
had just settled in to watch
our favorite show.
When what to my wondering ears
should I hear
But my neuro's voice chiming into
my brain loud and clear.
"No Copaxone, no Beta, no Avonex now,
No Rebif or Tysabri for you, holy cow!
You'll make it on FTY720, you'll see...
You're nigh seven months being relapse free.
As dry leaves before a wild hurricane fly,
My pills swirled up, up into the sky.
Only to rain down around me in piles
Guarding my body from MS all the while.
Okay, so I'm making that part up,
But I just can't believe this stuff
won't be approved.
Without one small twitch
of a side affect showing
I share with you on Christmas Eve
My spirits a-glowing.
If an oral medicine helps
slow the MS beast,
Then upon Fingolimod soon
we'll all feast.
To the top of my soap box,
to the top of the wall,
Now stay right behind me
and cushion my fall.
As I come back down dizzy
and legs all tuckered out...
I yell "Merry Christmas!"
and go back inside to drink a cup of hot chocolate, ponder why I haven't gotten the packages wrapped and why I have sat here at the computer so long writing some stupid poem that doesn't even follow the original correctly and makes no sense...
And now you can wonder why you bothered to read this.
Posted by Jeri Burtchell (TickledPink) at Monday, December 24, 2007