No, my name is not really Grace. See, I am one of the klutziest people you will ever meet. Now there are the klutzes who trip a lot, then there's me. When I lose my footing, I will generally perform what I can only describe as Olympic-standard tumbling. After I complete a fancy, complicated routine, after determining I haven't broken any bones and am not bleeding profusely, I will hop up, curtsy and announce, "Just Call Me Grace!"
Having been diagnosed since 1998, I am painfully familiar with the ins and outs of this nasty thing. The only treatments available right now involve needles. Weekly injections, every other day injections, daily injections or monthly infusions. I can't think of anyone other than an insulin-dependent diabetic who can relate to the sheer BOREDOM of self-injecting. It just gets old, it really does.
A pill to treat MS has been a fantasy of mine - and so many others - for a long time. So, I whole-heartedly agreed to join the ranks of other lab rats. This is my journal of the events. Please come with me on this journey.