Drummed Out of the Study

The confirmatory test results came in and I got the phone call from AVB formally telling me that I had a viral breakthrough and as per the protocols of the research trial must be taken off research treatment. I was asked to come in with my unused meds and my records.

I gathered together my bottles of Ribavirin both empty and full, my sharps container with all my used syringes, my unused vials of interferon in my insulated Roche fanny pack, my diary with records of the timing and amount of my daily doses of meds, loaded them into a bag and drove to the CPMC hepatology research center.

I trudged, gasping, up the hill to the hospital, rode alone in the clanking elevator to the third floor and was escorted into one of the closet-sized examining rooms. I stood in front of the desk of research coordinator AVB and unloaded my bag. The vials were counted, the pills were counted, the sharps container set aside for the later counting of the used syringes and my never-to-be completed dosing diary was confiscated from me. The Roche logo was ceremoniously cut off my insulated fanny-pack and it was tossed back to me. I was slapped on each cheek with the partially completed diary and as the theme song to Branded played in the background I was marched out of the room. As I walked down the hallway towards the elevator the nurses averted their eyes, the lab tech closed his door and the other patients behaved as though I did not exist. The walk back to my truck became another endless, gasping, uphill climb. What shreds of my dignity I had managed to preserve until that time broke down when I got into my vehicle and I sobbed uncontrollably over the steering wheel until I could gather what composure I could and drive back across the pitiless city to my cold, echoing home.

Tomorrow…The Rest of The Story.