Rare, Remarkable, and Ready for Round Two

After two long months without IVIG infusions—and feeling the steady decline that came with it—I’m relieved to say that I’ll be restarting my Gamunex-C infusions on June 27 & 28. I’ll be going every other week, two days in a row, receiving smaller, slower doses that are gentler on my body and won’t produce as many side effects.

I had to advocate for myself, especially when my doctor initially stopped the infusions altogether. I knew I wasn’t doing well and continued to feel worse, physically and emotionally. But speaking up for yourself in the medical world—especially when you’re dealing with a rare disease like dermatomyositis—can feel overwhelming, even intimidating.

That’s when my guardian angel stepped in: an infusion nurse with over 40 years of experience, including more than a decade as the director of the Johns Hopkins infusion center. She now manages an online discussion board for patients receiving IVIG for various autoimmune and neurological conditions. The knowledge, resources, and encouragement I gained from her—and from that online community—were exactly what I needed to advocate for myself with confidence.

But getting here was far from easy.

One important thing she taught me: IVIG treatments often come with a “worse-before-better” phase. And she was right. After my first two infusions back in April, I felt worse for several weeks. It was discouraging and confusing—until I learned that this is a common response as your immune system begins to shift. Unfortunately, because of the two-month gap in my treatment, I’m essentially starting over. I expect it may be another tough road before I start to see improvement, but this time, I’m going in prepared—mentally and physically.

📸 In the photo I’m sharing with this post, you’ll see me and my loyal sidekick River in our backyard oasis. I’m wearing a shirt that reads “Rare but Remarkable,” and that message couldn’t be more fitting. Living with a rare disease means constantly navigating unknowns. It means advocating when you feel unheard. And it means continuing to hope—especially when the path ahead is unclear.

But I know this much: I’m not alone. And if you’re reading this and facing your own battle, neither are you.

Keep asking questions. Keep learning. Keep fighting. Your voice matters—and so does your healing.

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