I’ve debated talking about this for several years now. I think now is the time.
So, without further ado, let me introduce you to my dad.
You might have noticed that the picture looks a bit dated. It most certainly is. Behold! 1986 in all its glory!
I chose this picture because it is how I think he’d like to be remembered.
The times changed, my brothers and I (I’m on his left, my twin is in the right foreground, and my older brother is to his right) grew up. The short shorts went, the mustache stayed.
This is what stands out to me: It was a great day out with his family. And he was standing up.
These kinds of days, as we came to find out, were already numbered when this photo was taken.
Too Close To Home
Within five years of this picture, my father was visiting doctors for disturbing medical issues — spasms, weakness, fevers, and intense pain.
Two years after, he had a tentative Multiple Sclerosis diagnosis. Two more, and it was clear that it was a progressive form.
What came after that was another two decades of suffering that he tried to stoically bear, but bled across my family.
It involved a basket — quite literally — of medications. Powerful muscle relaxers like Baclofen. What were then trial drugs like Betaseron. Both pills and injections of steroids. I can’t even come close to remembering them all.
At its peak, his prescription regimen involved about a dozen types of pills and a couple injections. Half might help the symptoms. The other half were for the side effects of the other prescriptions.
Our meals were timed around them. Our lives were timed around them. Someone was always home. Someone had to be. We installed a chair lift. We bought walkers, then wheelchairs.
And his MS came with ever-stronger doses of opioids. There was a steady progression of those. From generic codeine-based ones to name-brand Oxycontin.
They were the best. And the worst. When the MS wasn’t as bad, it meant cutting back on the meds to boost their efficacy when things got worse. Everything came with a price.
Weaning off the pills was hell. Yet the time kept coming when he needed to go back on them.
The Times Are Changing
I’ve hesitated to talk about his condition in the past, especially in public. I’ve only written about it once before. In hindsight, I still stand behind that article, though it is very dated.
There are many reasons why. It was an intensely personal issue, and still is.
I learned how to give a subcutaneous injection before I learned how to drive.
His doctor gave us information on how to lift patients without injuring our backs. He trained my dad on how to position himself to reduce caretaker injuries.
I can still give one hell of a calf and ankle massage because it was the only way we could help relieve the cramping and pain.
I know I’m not alone though. MS is only one of many issues that so many of us deal with every day, whether we bear their burden directly or change our lives for those who do.
I have been an adamant advocate for medical marijuana for a good decade. MS patients in particular have been a focus for both anecdotal and limited medical trials.
After seeing the compromises dad had to make for the medicines that were supposed to help, I can’t see any other sane position.
And we have no other options that could immediately affect the opioid crisis we’re facing that are as promising as marijuana, whether the root cause is MS, injuries, PTSD and war injuries, cancer, or any other reason for long-term pain management.
I knew someone who needed better options. I know companies that are working on them.
Quite frankly, I’ve made peace with the idea of profiting from them because it also means supporting them and what they are doing. I’ll be damned if I don’t get fully behind it.
