does anybody know what we are living for?

This morning, I was supposed to wake up early, go for a run, shower, and primp myself before meeting with my neurologist for my three-month appointment.

Instead, I slept through both of my alarms and a wake-up phone call from my boyfriend. I didn't get out of bed until 11:40am (my bad) which left me with a little over an hour to make myself presentable and get to the hospital. It was a horrible, wretched hour. I was nervous, anxious, fretful, and sick to my stomach thinking about what could potentially go down in the short amount of time I would spend inside the exam room with the doc.

I walked up to the receptionist's desk at exactly 1:00. Baby Jesus must have been looking out for me, because the sole magazine on the coffee table in the waiting room had the beautiful smiling face of this lovely lady on it:

I consider Mariska Hargitay's presence on this earth as a personal gift from Jesus to me

I replayed my most cherished Olivia Benson fantasies in my head while flipping through pages of the magazine during the time I spent waiting for Dr Stern. Most of the time when I have appointments with her, she's either finishing up with another patient or coming back from lunch so I'm accustomed to waiting. Mariska Hargitay helps to pass the time. But today, even a Benson-Stabler-Rollins mash-up wasn't enough to keep me from FREAKING THE FUCK OUT. Finally, the doc came out to the waiting room and called my name. I stood up to shake her hand and I noticed she was absolutely beaming. BEAMING.

The instant the door closed in the exam room she says, "I have to ask, how much weight have you lost?" Normally, she asks that towards the end, but I guess it was a very pressing matter. I told her 52 pounds even though it's actually 53, because... I guess I had a moment of stupidity. Fuckin' sue me okay? Whatever. 52 is still REALLY FUCKIN IMPRESSIVE (yeah, that's right. be impressed with me). She said "Wow, I can really tell. You look great." Then she asked a few questions about side effects (headaches, changes in taste), we discussed my weird bruising patterns and the pain in my soul from having to eat bland foods because my taste buds die at the sight of spicy things. She spent a long time flashing the blasted light in my eye to check out the swelling in my optic nerves/optic discs, and then did her usual muscle routine to check for neurological imbalances between the halves of my body. Everything checked out fine.

She scribbled something in my file and then told me that since I'm tolerating the meds and I'm still largely asymptomatic, my current dosages will stay the same. Then, she complimented me on my weight loss, followed by words I will never forget:

"If you keep losing weight the way you have, you could cure yourself."

Only once has Dr Stern ever used the word "cure" and it was to say that there is no cure for what I have. Over the last year I have come to terms with that, fully understanding that the best case scenario would be spontaneous remission. But today, she said "cure." I could cure myself.

Yet again, I am so absolutely moved (almost to tears) to see that my wonderful, amazing doctor understands me as a whole. Instead of ordering me to lose weight and making me feel like my condition is a direct consequence of my own actions, she's found a way to artfully motivate me in way that is neither demeaning or condescending. I left her office feeling like a god damn rock star knowing that I am not simply waiting for fate to subject itself on my life. I am absolutely in charge of this.

She refilled my prescriptions for SIX months, I usually only get scripts for 1-3 months at a time but the doc is confident that we've found doses that effectively manage my symptoms without putting me at risk for any serious side effects. SO YAY FOR CONSISTENCY. This is the first time since I first started treatment that I've known with certainty what to expect. Of course, I would love to be off the meds entirely, but it's a lot more tolerable knowing that I probably won't have any curve balls thrown at me in the future. I've been on this dose for the last month-and-a-half and I know how my body works and feels while taking it and I don't mind continuing down this path for now. Doc says if I continue to lose weight, I can probably stop the meds by the end of the year.

I think it's pretty clear what I need to do. Goal for the rest of 2012: kick serious ass at losing weight.

I keep hearing the words replayed in my head, over and over. You could cure yourself... you could cure yourself. Thinking back on it, I should have hugged my doctor. But we're both socially awkward and I don't think it occurred to either of us to express ourselves in a physical manner. I think it's not outrageous to say that by the time this is all over, I will have hugged her at least once. I could not have asked for a better experience.