Dan Pero
March 7th, 2008
I write this having just returned from my quarterly check up. My rheumatoid arthritis is in remission and has been for over two years. Like I said, a miracle.
Almost eight years ago, when my son was a year old and my daughter just a few months old, I was diagnosed with this hideous disease. It hit quick, in a matter of weeks. Like a freight train. And it was bad.
I couldn’t raise my arms over my head. I spent every evening with ice packs on my shoulders to reduce the swelling. My fingers were so swollen they had no definition. Nodules had started to form on my wrists and knuckles. My left knee ached so much I often had to sleep with it propped on a stool. At times I slept on the floor because it was impossible to get comfortable on a mattress. Walking was like stepping on needles. Special shoes didn’t help. I was miserable.
Still, all of this would have been okay if I could just be a dad who could do dad stuff with my children. You know. Crawl around on the floor. Play horsie. Lift them up and hug them. I could do none of that. And frankly, that ached more than all of my joints combined.
I prayed to God to allow me to be a dad to the children he blessed me with. He answered my prayers.
The medicine prescribed initially was Prednisone and Methotrexate. They stabilized my condition and immediately reduced the swelling throughout my body.
The first thing I did was swing my son around and lift him over my head. It was wonderful. I was able to exercise again and have been doing so almost five days a week for the past eight years.
But in late 2000, symptoms began to reappear. Nothing major, just some joint stiffness in my hands, but it was obvious a new treatment was going to be necessary.
My doctor prescribed this new “wonder drug” Enbrel. He counseled me on its effectiveness and its potentially fatal side effects. I knew the risk I was taking, but the potential benefits of the drug convinced me to begin taking it.
In 24 hours my symptoms vanished. I know it’s hard to believe, but they simply disappeared. And they have been gone ever since. I am as active now, if not more so, than I was in my twenties. I feel great.
And while I am thankful to God every day for blessing me with good health, I also recognize the great work of our pharmaceutical industry in creating the medicines that make these cures possible. I am walking, running, at times overworking (shoveling 10 tons of sand on our beach last summer), holding my kids, playing basketball and anticipating a mountain climb later this year.
None of this would have been possible without the commitment and genius of the scientists working for PhRMA companies. It is tragic that they are often the target of so much vitriol from various segments of our society. They deserve our praise and thanks, not our scorn and lawsuits.
The drug companies manufacture the medicines that make us healthy and keep us healthy. Not every medicine works the same way on every person. In fact, some medicines like Enbrel may not work at all on a patient. It’s impossible to predict all the interactions that may occur, the side effects that might appear.
This isn’t a perfect world. Perfect outcomes are not always in the cards. I fear what might happen if our drug companies are strangled by regulations and lawsuits. What might happen to afflicted people if the next Enbrel is not able to come to market? A new flu vaccine. AIDS treatments. Cancer medications. The list goes on and on.
I often say the pharmaceutical companies are my best friend. I mean it. They gave me my life back. They let me be a dad. I will forever be grateful for that.
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