Walking througha dream-like state in a sterile environment clouded by a dense fog, I could faintly hear a voice come over the intercom system saying, “Paging Dr. Mark S. Price! Stat!”

The sound was muffled as if I was under water. I could hardly hear what they were saying. A group of orderlies came rushing down the hall to hurry me along. The next thing I knew, I was in the scrub room thoroughly washing my hands before a nurse helped me put on a pair of blue scrubs and a surgical cap and mask.

I could barely see from squinting at the bright lights all around me in the OR. Then, as clear as day, I could see the patient lying on the operating table — it was me!

I was laying there hooked up to a machine with all sorts of wires going in and out of my body with an intravenous bag hanging by an IV pole.

Yep! That’s pretty much how I look every three weeks when I do my autoimmune therapy every third Sunday. When my baby sister sees me doing my infusion, she tells me I’m hooked up to the Matrix.

She’s referring to the 1999 science fiction film starring Keanu Reeves, which depicts an undesirable future where most humans are in a simulated reality called “the Matrix,” or dream world created by machines to subdue the human population. Neo, a computer programmer portrayed by Reeves, leads the rebellion against the machines.

I don’t know about all that — I’m not leading any rebellions, unless, of course, I’m engrossed in a Star Wars movie marathon. But what I am trying to do is boost my weak immune system to give myself a fighting chance against sickness and disease.

My little sister also says I’m not a doctor, but I play one on TV. She’s referring to the 1960s television serial Marcus Welby, M.D., which we watched in re-runs as kids. So now you know one of the nicknames my family called me on numerous occasions.

Although I never attended medical school, I pretty much feel like a doctor every time I am required to self-administer Hyqvia into my body with needles, syringes, tubes, IV bags and an electronic pump.

The first time my allergy doctor told me the process and what I would be required to do myself, I laughed in his face and told him he was crazy. “There is no way I’m doing that. I’m not a doctor!”

Here we are almost eight years later and I am doing “that,” while still not, yet, a doctor. Of course, I had one of two options — do the autoimmune therapy and live a relatively normal life or do nothing and get sicker and sicker, eventually landing in the hospital and leaving in a body bag.

Needless to say, I was devastated!

Approximately 50 million Americans, 20 percent of the population or one in five people, suffer from autoimmune diseases. So, I’m not alone in this fight.

It’s kind of ironic how the whole thing began. In fact, the allergy doctor’s discovery of my autoimmune deficiency was purely an accident. For a year following the removal of my gall bladder in September 2009, I kept having these strange abdominal cramps. I kept thinking the doctor left my gall bladder inside my body.

The following May, I went to see a gastroenterologist. He performed both an endoscopy and a colonoscopy. Neither procedure showed anything. Then he sent me to an allergy doctor, thinking maybe it was a food allergy. Nope! Another brick wall! I finally gave up and soon the strange pains subsided. I guess my stomach had to readjust to no longer having a gall bladder.

Then one afternoon the next September, I received a phone call from the gastroenterologist. He wanted to see me and go over some test results from the allergy doctor. That’s when I found out I had autoimmune deficiency.

I didn’t understand what the big deal was about. Ever since I smashed my face into a tree while sledding, the doctors told my parents I had what was called an “IGA Deficiency.” They never said anything else about it. So, we didn’t think it was a big deal.

Yet, every time I obtained a new family doctor, I let them know about the “IGA Deficiency.” Well, apparently they didn’t know what it was either because not one of them ever did anything about it. Very frustrating to say the least.

In a nutshell, we all have three components to our immune system (IGG, IGM, and IGA). I’m not going to get all technical on you with doctor jargon none of us understand anyway. But those three components are antibodies in our blood stream and perform different functions to help heal our body when we get sick.

All three of my components were in the toilet. Well, isn’t that ducky. I was baffled. Sure, I got sick several times a year. But I took seven different kinds of vitamins and had never felt better. Yet, they were telling me that I was on the verge of kicking the bucket.

But after talking about it with my family doctor, I did nothing for the following three years. Then, it was back to the gastroenterologist for another unrelated issue. However, when the blood test results came back, he informed me the three components to my immune system were now in the sewer.

I breathed a sigh of frustration and went back to the allergy doctor to begin treatment for my autoimmune deficiency. Although I began self-infusing once a week with Gamunex over four years ago, I have now been able to extend it to once every three weeks with Hyqvia.

In addition, I have since discovered that working out with weights at the gym has only helped to strengthen my immune system. Nothing’s going to keep me from living a “fun-filled” and happy life.

So here’s to feeding my inner animal and getting “Swole” at the gym.

Mark S. Price
https://www.clintonnc.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/web1_New-Mark-S.-Price-1.jpgMark S. Price

By Mark S. Price

Contributing columnist