Ah, my old nemesis, we meet again. . .

Annnnnd. . . . the myopathy, aka immune mediated necrotizing myopathy, is back.

Serum CK from a quarterly blood draw in April was “high” at 674 (Using scare quotes here because five years ago it was crazy-high — 6800. Perspective.). Two weeks later it had gone up to 1021. 

When this mysterious disease first appeared five years ago, it felt dramatic and the battle against it seemed epic — partially because so much was unknown (and happening during a strange new global pandemic). This time around it feels more like a deliberate, evenly paced parrying of blood tests and scans and medical treatments.

Complicating factors this time around are my being on the other side of the country (left New Mexico for North Carolina in late summer of 2023 to be closer to my mom after my dad's death), no longer having a rheumatologist, having different health insurance. . . It's all doable but feels more like, say, paperwork than . . .  a fight to the death. 

Which I suppose is a good thing — just not great for riveting storytelling.