Many years ago a young woman accompanied a small wagon train as it travelled north. The travellers were about 40 miles from their destination when an early winter blizzard unleashed its full fury on the travellers.  What started as a clear pathway with well-worn wagon wheel grooves swiftly changed into snow drifts over four feet high.  The young woman kept pushing forward through the ever-increasing drifts. As she moved forward to her horror she realized that she could no longer hear the sound of the horses and mules straining in their harnesses above the wind. Unable to see or hear her fellow travellers she continued moving forward in the hopes that by moving forward she would not fall prey to hypothermia. She soon became exhausted by the effort of swimming through snow. Alone, freezing and afraid she paused and uttered a heartfelt prayer for deliverance.

Suddenly a man on a large horse appeared and scooped her up into the saddle. He gave the horse his head and the three carefully made their way to the wagons which had circled to wait out the storm. The man delivered the woman to the travellers and then disappeared back into the blizzard.

I have been fortunate enough in my lifetime to witness a blizzard in the exact location where this young woman became lost. The snow swirled and stung my face. Ice formed on my woolen gloves. I wore polar-fleece and a snow-suit and I was still cold. It is hard to imagine surviving in an ankle-length dress and thin leather shoes. Yet, she did.

What I find most impressive about this story is its parallel to modern life. How often I have started on a path that was well-worn and relatively clear only to find that just a short distance from my destination a seemingly impenetrable obstruction blocks my path, hides the trail and stops my progress. I am tempted to lie down in my proverbial snow drift and let hypothermia of the soul freeze my progress. 

While several times in the past week I have felt the urge to drop off the Ampligen I have persisted in the hopes that by moving forward I will end up where I need to be. I was rewarded with a token day of energy yesterday. I was able to walk the dogs for 15 minutes and shop (albeit briefly) in three stores. I am not dead today nor am I in increased pain. I have stayed at the 50 mg level infused over one hour this past week. I am still optimistic, but I am also learning to be a little more celebratory over the small victories. Making my lunch, visiting with a friend and being able to walk a little more may not be the same thing as running a marathon, but for now I’ll take what I can get. Now, if only the nausea would lighten up…

Sophie

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