After searching and searching for a neurologist, it seems God has placed in my life an amazing physician. She is kind, sincere and seems eager to help. She sends me to a distant land to get an additional neurology consult by an “expert” clinician. When the very knowledgeable doctor sends me back to my neurologist with no answers, my physician is very heart broken.
At my appointment, my neurologist tells me she has one last treatment option for me—intravenous immunoglobulin (IVIG). She tells me this is the “Hail Mary” and is essential for the treatment of my condition. She says time is running out. I don’t have any other options left. I listen to the doctor’s words, but I disagree with her. I do not believe IVIG will be of any benefit to me. In fact, I suspect I most likely will have an adverse reaction to IVIG. I react to animal protein, and IVIG is antibody protein collected from thousands of donors. Protein from other people...that seems like something my body will reject.
Despite my foreboding, I set up appointments for the five days needed for the infusions. I pray and pray to God for guidance. I cannot dismiss the darkness which looms over this procedure. I cancel my IVIG appointments. On the day I am to have a follow-up appointment with my neurologist, I receive a call from her office. They are calling to cancel my appointment because I did not get the IVIG infusions. I protest getting the infusions. The receptionist immediately connects me to the neurologist. (I am shocked I am directly transferred to the doctor and am able to speak with her.) The physician again goes on and on how IVIG is my only treatment option. I need these infusions to save my life. If I refuse to receive the IVIG, the doctor informs me, she will not continue my care. "If you do not get the infusions, I will no longer be your doctor." Not wanting to find another neurologist, I reluctantly agree to get the IVIG.
I push off getting the IVIG until just a few days before my next appointment with my neurologist. I have much uneasiness and dread concerning the IVIG infusions. I pray to God that if I have a bad reaction, He will get me through it. I pray for strength and courage to carry forth.
When the day for the first IVIG infusion comes, I am strangely at peace. I am not nervous or anxious. I feel as though I am enveloped in an embrace of comfort. I enter the infusion center and check in. A nurse takes my vitals. Another nurse spots an open chair directly across from the nurses’ station. Despite the oodles of other open infusion recliners, she says I am to have this chair. She says she wants me to be close by the nurses since I have a ventilator. I am grateful for this chair. I thank God for placing me me so close to the nursing staff in case anything might happen during the infusion.
The nurse wheels me to the recliner and begins going over the procedure with me. I am carefully keeping an eye on the clock. I want to get this infusion done as fast as possible and get as far away as possible from this place as I can. Despite the calmness which fills my soul, an evil wickedness seem to encompass the infusion center. A deep, dark nightmare is about the begin.
(Link to Part Two click here)
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