Baclofen – A Life with multiple sclerosis

February 14, 2023

Post HSCT – 1 Year “Birthday”

Mom and me Today is the one-year anniversary of the birth of my new immune system, the day they put my stem cells back in my body to begin the process of rebuilding an infrastructure free of the memory of MS, hopefully. So, I thought I better get my butt in gear and write!

February 14, 2022 (a new meaning to Valentine’s Day) was the day they reintroduced my stem cells. February 14, 2023, my 1-year “stemmie birthday´. Also the day Kira and Zac leave on a three month trip to Southeast Asia. Grand adventures on both counts!

I also want to say a big and beautiful “happy birthday” to Kira who turned 24 on February 8th.

Kira blowing out birthday candles

This post is playing catch up, so it is a long one…

Month 10

Ditto Month 9 – it sucked.

Month 11

The summer I turned 16, my grandmother took me on a three-week trip to France. We boarded a plane leaving from Seattle and landed at Charles de Gaulle airport in Paris and while the Airport was majestic, the surrounding part of the city was grittier than I expected Europe to look. I remember being nervous that Europe, and Paris in particular, had been overhyped. As we arrived in Paris proper, the majestic was restored many times over.

We spent a packed and beautiful week in Paris where we met up with my uncle Rob – a seasoned expat who spoke fluent French. Together, they took me to a sweet little restaurant, Au Franc Pinot on Île de la Cité, to celebrate my 16^th birthday. To get to our table we had to walk down three flights of stairs underground. My memory tells me the walls were earthen – moving and alive – with carved out shelves for candles. As we descended deeper and deeper into the underground bowels of Paris, I expected our waiter to be otherworldly or at least suspect. That dinner was the first time I tasted (or had even heard of) foie gras – which I enjoyed tremendously and chased down with my first Kir Royale.

The morning after my birthday dinner, my grandmother got up early, before I woke, and bought a watercolor painting from a street vendor. It depicted the exact corner with the restaurant where we had celebrated my birthday. I carefully carried that painting through the rest of our trip. I have brought it with me every place I have lived since – Eugene, Boston, New York, Seattle, and now here to Indianola.

Watercolor painting of Paris street corner

I fell in love with Monet on that trip. We had bags of flour thrown on us from a bridge over the Seine while we rode a Bateaux Mouches. We stayed up late and walked the Paris streets, ate dinner at street cafés, toured museums including the Louvre where I was disappointed by the Mona Lisa – so small. Because we were in Europe, my grandmother didn’t care that I was under 21 and I had wine, beer, and champagne freely.

We drove through Arles, Avignon, and St. Tropez where we shopped, ate, and explored. With the help of my uncle, we enjoyed a week on a barge through the burgundy region of France – Dijon to Beaune. I was closer, by far, to the age of the crew than I was to the other guests, but it was magical. We took a horseback ride, toured chateaus, ate the most amazing food, and tried without success to take a hot air balloon ride – the weather conditions were sadly never right.

Me and the crew on "La Litote" — Me and the crew on “La Litote”

Crew on "La Litote" — Crew on “La Litote”, bestill my 16-yr-old heart!

At the end of that boat tour we visited a wine cellar, Marche Aux Vins – a multi-floored cavern with candle sconces on the walls and rows and rows of oak barrels. We were not skilled at the spitting part of wine tasting, which was probably their plan all along, and were more than tipsy by the time we reached the “purchasing room”. My grandmother bought multiple crates of wine to be shipped home and I bought a couple of bottles to take home with my teenage self.

Wine tasting "cup" from Marche Aux Vins — Wine tasting “cup” from Marche Aux Vins.

I share this now because my grandmother passed on Dec 12 at age 96. She was surrounded by family – her daughter and son In-law, two of her grandchildren and their spouses, and a squirrel’s nest of great grandchildren. She was ready and her passing was without pain.

The memories of that trip to France are vivid for me and I know they were vivid for her. Over the years and decades since then, we talked about them often. In October of this year when I visited her, almost 40 years since the trip, we still talked about it as if it was yesterday.

Last night as I was walking downstairs I looked at photographs of her that hang on our stairwell wall and it hit me that I’m the only one who still holds those memories. My co-author of those stories is no longer here. They only live inside me now and I miss her. It reminded me of what she said when my grandfather passed, at his memorial. She shared that the thing she missed most was having a person in her life who knew all the stories. The stories of their marriage, good and bad, the stories of raising their children, the stories of their travels, of their friends, the houses they’d lived in, the meals they’d shared, the decisions they’d made — the minutiae of life. I get that now.

This morning is the misty gray that comes with living in the Pacific Northwest near the ocean. It is quiet, my house is empty. I will offer this cliché… It’s been a long time since my last blog post. I skipped right over a month 10 and find myself now at month 11.

Between my last post and now it has been rough. My spasticity was so intense that I was in bed a lot, not really functioning. It was a dark time which I recognize now correlates, somewhat symbolically, with the darkest days of the year and the stress of the holidays. I lost all interest in writing.

Over the past few weeks, it seems that medication management is starting to work. I feel connected again to the world. I can dream about the future, do physical therapy to get stronger, comfortably participate in social activities. I can sit at the table and play games.

I am not sure what exactly is different. I have tried these medication combinations before with little effect, but now they seem to be making difference. Some days are still rough – two days ago I was in bed all day – some days I feel relatively effortless. Most days are in between.

I have been able to start my day feeling that I can move things forward; that I can contribute. I have more capacity to participate. I am taking on volunteer opportunities in my community and connecting more with friends for conversations and catching up, I feel like I’ve lost time with people.

As I close in on the one-year mark I’m having difficulty wrapping my head around the fact that that much time has passed. In a few days it will be a year since I stepped on the plane to Mexico. Am I better? Did HSCT work for me? More on this at the actual one-year post…

Month 12 – 1 year

Where am I at the one-year mark? Cautiously hopeful. Still in pain but working on it. Still experiencing loads of spasticity but working on it. I would say I’m in the middle of things. I’m on the upward arc from the nadir, I’ve seen the darker parts and I feel they are behind me. Am I back to my baseline? Not yet. Only because my spasticity is still higher and different than before treatment. If that were to go away, I’d be back to baseline or better. My bladder is better, my fatigue is better when I’m not medicated to high heaven. My mood is balanced. Some days are still hard, but those days are fewer. More days are good.

I’m feeling optimistic. I have this sense that there is a strong, fluid moving skeleton underneath a façade of spasticity, waiting to emerge. I feel strong inside. In those rare moments where my spasticity eases, that strong understructure comes forward and makes itself known enough that I can trust it’s there. I feel stronger and more centered than I did in the dark of winter.

I continue to turn over all stones of therapies, modalities, and medications. Under one stone, I found that Swedish Medical Center, here in Seattle, offers a free music therapy zoom group every Wednesday morning. What a fun discovery! It is both meditation and movement therapy – using music in connection with movement and emotional exploration. It connects the mind and the body in a way that makes sense to me. It is both science and heart.

Am I done? Not yet. Am I hopeful? Mostly. Do I regret treatment? Not yet. I think if this spasticity does not relent I might wonder if I did the right thing, but it is still early for that. I don’t think I will regret this even if that doesn’t happen. There’s no way to know if the spasticity wouldn’t have happened anyway. Also, if I hadn’t tried HSCT I would’ve always wondered. And since there are no other options, the risk wasn’t really that great.

I’m feeling at peace. I am starting to have more in my life than just my MS, though it does still take up time and thinking. It will continue to be my “job” for the rest of my life most likely.

So, what am I doing? Learning to use Spotify and Photoshop, volunteering with my local community, reading, loads of physical therapy, counseling, music therapy, writing, spending time with my family, supporting my smaller circle of my intentional community (wise acres), making granola and yogurt – I’m staying busy.

I feel on the cusp of something, some internal revelation maybe, some sort of quantum leap. I’m open. We shall see what the next year holds. Happy one year “birthday” to me. If you are still here, thank you for reading along.

"Birthday" card from Kira. — “Birthday” card from Kira.

Symptom Update

Walking/legs/spasticity:

This has been my focus since the start of recovery. I’ve mostly covered this above. It is still rough, still very much present, but significantly more managed than before. I am motivated and energized to do physical work every day. Over the last few months, it has been difficult-to-impossible to do simple exercises, even though I was motivated to do so. Now I get to be creative, enjoy my body more, I get to build. That ability to build gives me hope. I am willing to do the hard work that needs doing if I know things are moving forward. Working with my Physician, I am planning to attempt Botox again on my leg to see if we can impact the correct muscles this time.

Arm/hand:

I have slowly begun to do work here after ignoring it for such a long time, this work is hard – the hardest of all the work I do. I am using a contraption (Saebo Reach), prescribed to me by my occupational therapist (OT) years ago. It was designed for stroke survivors to reduce their arm spasticity and regain function through neuroplasticity. I recently started using another product from Saebo – the Estim Micro, that I wear at night along with the Saebo Stretch the I have had for years. These therapies are not a quick fix. They are awkward and cumbersome, but a trust that over time and with a ton of committed intention, my arm and hand can improve.

Bladder:

My bladder function continues to be mostly normal, thankfully. I can live like this forever, even if it isn’t perfect.

Bowel:

Trigger warning: skip to the next section if you are squeamish about scatological things.

By and large, my bowel function is normal. Regular, constipation managed, not too loose, in the sweet spot. However, I recently had an episode that many people with MS will relate to. I had been increasing my magnesium dose to see what my body could tolerate – this can lead to loose stool. I drove to a medical appointment, got out of my car, and preceded to unload my walker to assist me getting into the building. As I am bent over to lift the walker, I felt a sudden bowel movement urgency and simultaneously felt that my anal sphincter was unable to hold in the impending poop. It just slipped out into my underpants. Thankfully, I am perpetually early to appointments. I had time to clean up.

I entered the facility and went directly to the bathroom. I took off my shoes, pants, and then carefully took off my underwear. Thankfully it had been contained and my pants were spared. But oh, what a “shit show”! And, what a cleanup! Scads of toilet paper, hand towels, and huffing and puffing before I was “shit free”. I flushed the toilet paper, put the hand towels and my underwear in the garbage bag, removed the garbage bag from the container and tied it shut, put my pants and shoes back on, and went to check in. Embarrassing, humiliating.

I have had a small handful (thankfully) of moments like this over the last 15 years, but this was by far the worst. It reminded me that there is still some MS vulnerability in this area. Note to self, back off the magnesium.

Hair:

Still in the awkward grow out phase. My hair continues to grow up before it turns downward. Still curious and patient.

Hair 7 months front view — September 2022

Fatigue:

While my MS fatigue continues to be at bay, the combination of medications that I am on have fatigue as a side effect, so we’re playing with different medications to find a combination with the least downsides.

Medications

I have a strong drive to be on as little medication as possible. I think it is a fear of polypharmacy, learned in graduate school. Too many medications = bad things. I reassure myself that my underlying cardiac health is strong, my kidneys are working well, my pulmonary system and liver are healthy. I don’t have an issue with blood sugar regulation. So maybe I’m less at risk than I think.

I don’t plan to rock the boat, even though it is my impulse to wean off medications that I don’t know concretely are working. Spasticity is there underneath the medication like the proverbial sleeping tiger. It could make itself known if provoked.

Current meditation cocktail:

Baclofen: Maximum dose – 20 mg, 4x/day.

Lyrica (Pregambalin): 150mg, 2x/day, 75mg 2x/day. This is a medication that can be used interchangeably with gabapentin. It is metabolized somewhat differently and is known to have a gentler side effect profile. I am two weeks into this, and the jury is still out as to whether or not my fatigue is better with this.

Tramadol: I have been down to 25 mg at night and one night I used none. That night I slept very poorly and had a rough day emotionally. Still sorting this out. I don’t like being on an opioid, but it makes a difference with sleep and weaning off, even at this very low dose, is impactful.

Duloxetine (Cymbalta): I have been on this for a little over two weeks at a moderate dose. This is an antidepressant that has been shown to have beneficial impacts on pain.

“Duloxetine is also used to treat pain and tingling caused by diabetic neuropathy (damage to nerves that can develop in people who have diabetes) in adults and fibromyalgia (a long-lasting condition that may cause pain, muscle stiffness and tenderness, tiredness, and difficulty falling asleep or staying asleep) in adults and children 13 years of age and older. It is also used to treat ongoing bone or muscle pain such as lower back pain or osteoarthritis (joint pain or stiffness that may worsen over time) in adults. Duloxetine is in a class of medications called selective serotonin and norepinephrine reuptake inhibitors (SNRIs). It works by increasing the amounts of serotonin and norepinephrine, natural substances in the brain that help maintain mental balance and stop the movement of pain signals in the brain.” Source: https://medlineplus.gov/druginfo/meds/a604030.html

The idea here is that it can increase my pain threshold, so I am less triggered by pain as a source of my spasticity. It may replace Tramadol to help me sleep the night, and, as a side bonus, it may give me an overall sense of well-being. I am interested to see if this might be beneficial. Not noticing anything yet as relates to decrease pain, but I do believe it may be having a negative impact on fatigue during the day as well as some blurry vision

Cannibis: I am currently only doing this at night to help me sleep. During the day it is inconsistent and its benefit to spasticity and consistent in making me feel high, so I don’t use it very often.

September 28, 2022

Post HSCT – Month 7 Symptoms

Number 7 graphic

Seven months in, more than half a year since treatment.

I am on Facebook groups related to HSCT: HSCT in Mexico, HSCT in Russia, HSCT in general. The posts in these groups are mostly people considering HSCT at the beginning of the process. They are in the questioning phase, trying to get information, looking for certainty and guarantees where there are none. How much does it cost? What should I bring? Where is the research? Will it work for my specific snowflake of symptoms and diagnosis? How many people had it improve their walking/pain/fatigue…? For how many people did this not work? Did you regret it? Reaching for hope and afraid of the future no matter which choice they make.

Mexico FB group

Many will never make it happen – because of fear, because of money, because of family demands, because it just isn’t right, because they are not willing to face disappointment, etc.. I was there, I remember how that felt. I had all the same questions, though I did do a better job of searching the page history before asking a question that had already been asked over and over. I trolled the comment threads. I read through the files. I dug up the research – less research than I wished there was. I wanted stone-cold guarantees and clarity. I ultimately had to find my way to make the choice inside the discomfort of ambivalence.

And then I did it. I went to Mexico. I spent a full month there. I went through treatment that was simultaneously hard and brief. I spent the money. It is done, in the rearview mirror. Now the calendar is back to spinning forward faster and faster and when I look in that rearview mirror, the memory of that time is fading fast.

After I got home, I followed the blogs, private Facebook groups, and Instagram pages of people who were in the cohort right behind me. I paid close attention to their journeys, and I had personal connections to some. The next month came, and I paid a little less attention, the next month even less. Now I am no longer following the stories. I pop into the FB groups of people asking the questions at the beginning and answer things where I can, where others haven’t already answered the same questions a million times over.

I am currently in a Facebook group of people who have completed the treatment with the questions we all ask now. How long did you feel this way? When did things change for you? How long was your roller coaster? What did you do to get through it? We are all looking for stories that match ours, for a string to hold onto out of the maze. There are many for whom this time is now far in the rearview mirror. They pop in less and less to offer stories and advice. For now, I am of the ones asking the questions, seeking stories that match my snowflakes self. There will come a time when this phase is in the rearview mirror for me as well.

Life after HSCT FB group

Legs/walking:

These days I am feeling stuck in pain. Spasticity is a bitch. It seems to be getting harder, even though I felt like it was as hard as it could get already. I hope, I trust. I hope, I trust. I hope, I trust? that this is just a tunnel to get through. I have to believe that. These are still early days, 7 months into a recovery arc that lasts up to 24 months for some. However, when I live in this body day by day, each day can feel eternal and the next seven months inconceivable.

Occasionally there are moments where I feel like I could dance. These moments come out of nowhere. I don’t know what causes them and I don’t know how to re-create them. But they arrive and give me hope; if my body can do this at all, it’s capable of doing this more. The connections aren’t lost. The structure, the skeleton of movement, is there waiting to be released. These teaser moments are a gift. Water in the desert. They take my breath away. They are joyful. They are too brief.

In the meantime I continue to do physical therapy, massage therapy, cardiovascular exercise to the best I can, and the MSgym. My goal, my mission, is to keep that skeletal under structure strong and resilient for when the spasticity eventually subsides.

The Mollii Suit

A woman from the UK, who is about two months behind me and dealing with the same degree of spasticity/spasms, recently posted a photograph of herself in what looks like a wet suit.

It turns out it is a rehabilitation apparatus full of electrical impulses, “functional electrical stimulation”, called the Mollii Suit.

“What is the Mollii Suit?

The Mollii Suit (formerly Elektrodress) is a functional garment that consists of a pair of trousers, a jacket and a detachable control unit which sends electrical signals to the user via electrodes on the inside of the garment. Mollii is an assistive device that people with muscle stiffness (spasticity) or other forms of motor disability can use in their home environment. It can help to reduce undesired reflexes and stiffness, thus enabling an improved posture, range of motion and functional ability. It can also reduce certain types of pain and improve sleep patterns.

How does it work?

The suit has 58 electrodes which can be combined in various ways. Mollii has a control unit which is individually programmed for each user. The person prescribing Mollii uses a computer program to adapt the active electrodes and the intensity (which muscles are to be activated by means of current). The settings are then saved in the Mollii control unit making it simple for the device to be used at home. Mollii uses low level electric current to produce basic tension in the musculature. The current stimulates the antagonist to the spastic muscle. If, for example, the biceps is spastic, the tricep is stimulated which in turn makes the biceps relax. Relaxing the muscle enables active movement and a gradual improvement in function. The physiological mechanism is called reciprocal inhibition.

Who can benefit from using it?

Mollii can be used by adults and children with neurological conditions such as multiple sclerosis, cerebral palsy, acquired brain damage, spinal cord injury and stroke. Mollii provides tailored rehabilitation in the form of a garment with electrotherapy programmed according to the individual’s requirements.”

This woman reported that after a short time wearing the suit it greatly relieved her spasming. The relief doesn’t last forever, but it is meaningful relief that can be repeated. This suit is not available in the fucking US because of the fucking FDA. Even in the UK, on the NHS, I don’t believe it is free. At this point, if it worked, I wouldn’t care if it costs something. I want this suit.

Arms/hands:

I’m still not putting my focus here because the spasticity in my legs and the pain in my hips are so on fire. Someone in my online physical therapy group mentioned she noticed she was deferring to her stronger hand/arm because things were getting harder with her affected arm. Because the brain reinforces what you do it every day, through neuroplasticity, she was making it a practice to embrace the struggle and use her challenged arm even though it made things slower and more difficult. Use it or lose it. Challenge accepted.

Fatigue:

Fatigue continues to not be an issue, at least not MS fatigue. I can feel exhausted when my muscles contract all the time, but that is different and hopefully solvable. I don’t have hours or entire days where I just have to lie down and take a nap for no apparent reason like I used to. I’ll take the win.

Bladder:

Ups and downs here. I’m noticing a correlation between increased overall spasticity and increased urgency. Mostly this isn’t a problem. I no longer worry about being out somewhere and having to find a bathroom quickly.

Hair:

A picture is worth the proverbial 1000 words. I will add some words, however. I am reaching the uncomfortable part of growing out one’s hair. Decisions need to be made – stay the course through the awkward growing out phase, or cut it short again and never know what the future could hold. Given how tightly curled my hair is right now, I imagine it will be going up in all directions, for a while, before changing tack and heading south under the weight of gravity. My curiosity for what it will look like after chemo is keeping me from cutting it even though it is so easy short, the practical choice certainly.

Hair 7 months front view

Hair 7 months profile

Medication:

A lot going on in this category this month. I continue to be on Baclofen and gabapentin at their maximum dosages, I’m not sure they’re making any difference at all. Beginning this week, I am weaning myself off the gabapentin. I am doing this for the most part because I don’t think it’s helping, at least not very much and definitely not enough. I am also doing this because I’m pretty sure it is causing weight gain and digestion woes.

Baclofen, I’m coming for you next! Hopefully this doesn’t screw me over the way it did last time I tried to wean off a medication.

About three weeks ago my physiatrist injected Botox into my right hamstrings and calf muscles to see if that would reduce the spasticity. It can take up to four weeks for this to fully take effect but so far, I’m not noticing anything. It is critical to start low with this medication. Too little and you feel nothing for three months. Too much and your leg is a noodle for three months.

The process of injecting botox into the muscle is fascinating. The practitioner has a device attached to a very thin needle that delivers the botox. The device can “hear” the activity/contractility of the muscle. The practitioner literally fishes around with the needle inserted into the muscle, looking for the highest amount of “sound” the muscle is making and then injecting at this location. It is like standing behind an old television set, adjusting the rabbit ears trying to get the TV signal to come in. Or like moving around the room with your phone trying to get better signal when you are at the limit of the range.

Last week I started taking LDN (low dose naltrexone). According to the National MS Society:

“Naltrexone is an opiate antagonist that is taken orally to block opioid docking sites (receptors) on cells. It is approved by the U.S. Food and Drug Administration (FDA) for the treatment of addictions to opioids and alcohol. At significantly lower doses, low-dose Naltrexone has been used off-label as a treatment for various types of cancers, HIV/AIDS, Parkinson’s disease, Alzheimer’s disease, amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS), emphysema, as well as multiple sclerosis (MS) and other autoimmune diseases.”

I am now at the highest dose possible for this, 4.5 mg per day. The hope for this is decreased pain in my hips and back. So far not noticing any benefit here either. I will give it another couple of weeks.

May 19, 2022

Post HSCT – Month 3 Musings

Tulips

Theme of The Month: Spasticity/Spasm Management

Saturday is three months since returning from Mexico. My experience of time passing is both slow and sudden. I cannot believe it has already been three months and at the same time every day feels long and drawn out. It reminds me of how I felt the first year with a newborn.

I have been putting off writing this post because I’ve been struggling a lot in my body. Depending on when I sit down to write, I seem to be either morose and hopeless or excited and hopeful. Today feels more balanced leaning a little towards excited and hopeful. I have had days that feel so hard it breaks me and I sob. I’ve had days where I’ve written in my journal, “this was a fucking good day!” Big swings. This is a boot camp training in Buddhist nonattachment.

I am writing mostly to document the HSCT process and to be able to see changes over time. For that to be useful, I need to be honest and objective about my experience when it is my nature to write an optimistic, future forward, triumphant version of my experience. Well, the last couple of weeks have sucked. My spasticity is still rough. Often, I have periods of spasms so intense and painful that I can’t think of or do anything else.

Typically, in the morning, my right leg wants to go into “extensor spasms” where my leg muscles all push simultaneously to extended/straighten my leg as far as it possibly can and with immense force. This hurts. It makes muscle fibers burn and I can’t get it to stop. On the flipside, in the evening, my right leg goes into “flexor spasms” where the entire leg from hip, to knee, to ankle) flex upward suddenly and fiercely, like regimented marching, over and over. This also hurts and makes it next to impossible to do or be anything else.

MS Spasms

I continue to experiment with different strains, delivery methods, and dosing of different cannabis products. I’ve added more use of ibuprofen, a topical cannabis salve that is remarkable for pain, and topical Voltaren – also for pain. Sometimes I feel like I got it dialed in and then I’ll try the same combination that it won’t work at all. I keep a daily log on my phone to try and find patterns.

Cannabis collection

“If I take ibuprofen and half a gummy at 5 AM in the morning, does it make it easier to get out of bed?”

“If I make sure to dose with cannabis every two and half hours, do I stay ahead of the spasticity train?”

“Is ibuprofen and topical pain relief more effective?”

“Does it work better if the cannabis is high CBG? High CBD? High THC? Half-and-half?”

It would probably be faster learning if I did this more scientifically, but I want to feel better fast, so I tend to throw things at it with well documented desperation.

Treatment Log

I recently ordered a book on managing MS symptoms and found a passage in the spasticity section that outlines “paroxysmal spasms” and describes exactly what I’m feeling. The physician author recommends an anticonvulsant medication, Tergretol. I met with my physician this morning and she has prescribed a similar medication for me, Oxcarbezine, to see if it makes a difference. In her experience this medication is equally as effective with less side effects. I will pick up this prescription this afternoon and get started. It can take up to two weeks to know if it is effective at all and if we need to do any dose changes before determining. Fingers crossed.

Book Passage

Thought process on spasticity causes/triggers:

MS causes spasticity and I had it prior to treatment. Experience then was of a constant moderate stiffness and difficulty bending ankle, knee, hip on right side. That was pretreatment baseline.
Increased spasticity, often lasting 6 to 12 months or longer, is common after chemotherapy with cyclophosphamide. Typically people report it starting closer to 8 or 10 months post treatment, but a meaningful contingent have it kick in around 2-3 months post treatment. Maybe I’m in that bucket and that’s why the intensity has increased.
Decreasing baclofen can cause rebound spasticity. It is unclear how that process is impacting my experience.
The last couple of weeks have been getting ready to travel to Colorado for Kara’s college graduation. This is a big deal for me three months post treatment. I’m still definitely in recovery and this will take a lot for my body. But it means so much to me to be there that it’s worth it. Is the stress about future events triggering my body to have more spasticity?
Pain in the muscles of my hips and low back, both caused by spasticity and triggers spasticity. This is why pain management is an important part of this picture.

Two important insights/learnings from the last couple of weeks:

More is not better. Because of my personality my instinct has been to try and do as many reps of PT exercises as I can and to increase what I can do every couple of days; ultimately to “push”. The more I can do, the faster I will heal right? This is paradoxically untrue. The harder I push, the more my body fights back. I’ve been learning this lesson the hard way. I have made it my practice starting last week to be gentler and to let my body go through the long process of healing. And it is a long game.
I have had an AFO (ankle-foot orthosis) for a few years, but barely used it. The device holds my foot in a flexed position (or at least 90° to my shin) and I was nervous that this would increase compensatory movement or cause my ankle muscles to weaken. I started using it over the last couple of weeks and I noticed that it decreases my spasticity and increases stability. For lack of a better description, it makes my brain feel safe and so it makes movement more natural. I have now learned that when I take it off, regardless of what I’m doing, the spasticity can kick in hard, like it was just waiting to spring. My best understanding of this phenomenon is that my brain no longer feels safe when it comes off and it goes into a protective mode. I wait until bedtime, right when climbing into bed, to take it off or the spasticity goes through the roof.
This product is amazing!

Key Moments:

Baclofen currently at 10 mg per day (5mg AM and 5mg PM). Will decrease the last 10 mg after returning from care’s graduation.
Met with my PCP on Monday and have begun decreasing tramadol (used for lower back and hip pain for sleep at night). Cannabis “wonder rub” is working wonders, no pun intended. This taper will take approximately six weeks, this is week one.
5/17 I clearly felt sensations in my feet that I haven’t felt in a while. Peripheral neuropathy has made the mostly numb, but yesterday they felt more normal like I could feel blood flow through them and I could feel toes move individually. Felt very energetically different.
Also 5/17 had one of my most difficult mornings where I didn’t know how I would get out of bed and get dressed. The spasming was so painful that I just sobbed. I called mom and she came right over. By the time she got here some of my medications had kicked in, or my body had just come online or something else happened, but I became able to move more freely and find equilibrium again.
I have tried acupuncture twice over the last two weeks and it has been an uncomfortable experience. My spasticity is so trigger-happy that the needles and the energy created by the acupuncture, whatever’s going on there, explodes the spasticity. Need to keep thinking if this is a helpful path forward.

April 4, 2022

Post HSCT Month 2 Musings

The Long Game

Well, I still have MS. Not that it was ever supposed to go away, but there is a part of me, and probably a part of every person who undergoes HSCT, that held on to a glimmer of a possibility that I would get home and miraculously everything would disappear, return to the before MS reality, be the one-in-a-million miracle case. To be honest, every morning there is this time between waking and moving where it feels entirely possible that movement will be “normal” – like waking up from a dream. I will swing my legs over the bed and be strong and stable. I will reach for something with my right arm and easily grab hold. This hopefulness is essential even if it is devastating.

The first few weeks that I was home I was surprised at how normal I felt, not that much different from how I felt before I left. I was thankful to have more energy, not need to sleep all day, and feel motivation to do things. Now, the long game is settling in. I still have more energy than before treatment and I still am motivated to do things, but the novelty has worn off. In addition, these first months of intense carefulness with infection risk comes coupled with isolation and loneliness. By necessity I am by myself a lot which leaves too much time inside my own head.

Other than my subjective experience, I won’t know if HSCT “worked” to halt my disease progression. And I won’t know, even subjectively, for one-two years. I have chosen to act as if it worked which feels like the only way to move forward. Therefore, my daily “job” is the tediously slow work of building new neuroplastic pathways for better mobility and function. This job doesn’t have coworkers or a water cooler culture. It is very solitary. And I’m not gonna lie, it isn’t fun. Each movement I practice is hard and I find myself in a resistance-acceptance-resistance cycle. I do some exercises, then distract myself with some other task, or game on my phone, or YouTube video, then knuckle down again for the next round of exercises. Progress is almost imperceptible, but it is happening enough that I continue. I have to remind myself all of the time why I do this, why it matters. Being active in the outdoors with people I love is my biggest motivation. And, as sappy as it sounds, the possibility of being an active grandparent is a motivator that brings tears to my eyes every time I think about it (no pressure on Kira to ever have children!)

Identity

Ironically, my reality before I left for HSCT is still my reality now that I’m back. Over the last 5-6 years as my body has changed and my ability to move has become more challenging, my world has become smaller – closer to home. Simple ways to connect with others, “hey, let’s go for a walk!”, “Let’s go hiking this weekend!”, “Let’s go to the beach for sunset!”, “It would be fun to cook dinner together!”, “There is a fun (band, comedian, play, etc) coming to town and I’d love to go with you!” are not so simple when movement requires a mobility device and walking from my house to the car is a significant undertaking. I try hard to focus on what I can do, but there is a cold hard reality to what I can’t do that can’t be ignored. An unintended side effect of the pandemic, and our society-wide need to retreat, was that it made the lives of everyone else more like mine, if even for a little while.

With this reality, I keep bumping up against questions of identity, meaning, purpose. How do I connect? How do I contribute? How do I play? How do I build something? How do I explore? How do I have fun? How do I navigate all of this and not have a morose pity party?

I am wanting ways to answer these questions that don’t involve a huge amount of effort or hard work and it honestly seems like a contradiction in concepts. Getting out of bed in the morning is work, taking a shower is effort, my physical therapy, occupational therapy, sitting up in a chair, and handwriting practice all ask me to push hard both physically and emotionally with barely perceptible results. Once again, it is all a leap of faith. All the work I do to hold onto and try to regain mobility marinates in my ability to hold hope and optimism.

I want to find ways to play and have fun that don’t ask me to work hard, I want relief and respite from work. However, everything I think of has a learning curve, a challenge that requires effort and work. Learn to play ukulele? Explore art making? Learn a new language? Read a bunch of enriching books? Write a book? I am searching for something that metaphorically feels like falling into fluffy clouds made of laughing gas. It’s a work in progress. Somewhere in there is a mindset shift where the effort and work along the way are fun in their own right.

To Baclofen or Not to Baclofen

The last couple of weeks has also been a brutal reminder of body and medicine chemistry. I have been on a medication called baclofen for several years now and it is never quite clear if it is really doing anything. Its purpose is to decrease spasticity, but it is very hard to tell how effective it is. Spasticity has a natural fluctuation in intensity by itself – over the course of a single day or from one day to the next. Is my spasticity better because of baclofen or is it just a better day? Baclofen also has negative side effects – it causes fatigue and creates muscle weakness. A devil’s bargain, possibly less spasticity traded for weakness and loss of muscle. How am I to build strength, muscle, and endurance if I’m fighting against this medication?

Getting off baclofen is no small deal. You must go very slow because withdrawal symptoms are no joke. Baclofen withdrawal has been compared to withdrawing from benzodiazepines. Specifically, there is an emotional/mood impact that feels like intense depression and there is a strong likelihood of “rebound spasticity” which is a crippling exacerbation of MS spasticity. If a person weans off baclofen too fast, it can cause cardiac arrest.

I am not a patient person. At the beginning of last week, I decided I wanted to wean off baclofen to have a better understanding of my baseline spasticity without medication. Without doing due diligence research, I decided to cut my baclofen dose in half right out of the gate. I went from 20 mg three times per day to 10 mg three times per day. About two days into this process, I started to write this blog post and noticed that the world was a gray, nihilistic, teary landscape – I mostly scrapped that writing. Three days in the rebound spasticity kicked in like pissed-off wild horses and I could barely stand up.

Wild Horses

I did me a little research and quickly brought my dose back up to my usual and the world stabilized. As of this writing, I have started a more gradual baclofen taper because I really do want to know the state of my body without it; what is my baseline. I am all for having as little medication in my body as possible. Fingers crossed for better success this time around.