a shot in the dark

I am a humongous wimp. 

As in, I get a paper cut and want to take the rest of the day off to cry and nurse my wound. And maybe even consider stitches. I also get a hurt a lot; a by-product of being an extremely clumsy gal. Combine my frequent injuries with my lack of pain tolerance, and Hubs just about goes nuts every time I start a sentence with, "OMG, I just (verb) my (noun) on the (noun)!" To him, it's just code for, "I'm getting ready to cry."

As a somewhat tough man, he just doesn't understand how one person can find so many minor injuries severe enough to cry about. 

Examples: 

• Hitting my head on the door frame while exiting a car too quickly.
• Minutes Crying: 6

• Falling up the stairs, lighting bending ankle.
• Minutes Crying: 4

• Twisting neck while playing volleyball.
• Minutes Crying: 4 while in public, 10 later at home

• Endometrial biopsy.
• Minutes Crying: All. Damn. Day.

Being in a certain amount of pain or discomfort is all part of the territory when you're an infertile. You're poked, prodded, squeezed, smooshed and probed at pretty much every appointment you're unlucky enough to have to attend. Some things get easier to deal with, and others just never quite feel anything less than horrific.

For me, needles are the worst. Poke and prod and stick weird catheters all up in my vajay-jay all day long, but keep the needles far, far away in the evil land of Sharpville from whence they came. 

(And yes, I do have a tattoo. I cried the entire time.)

All of this is leading up to what happened last week. Aunt Flo arrived, which meant it was time for me to begin my Depot Lupron shots. Joy of joys. I'd been dreading the shot, and now...it was here.

The shot arrived on Thursday morning. I instantly texted Hubs.

Me: The Lupron shot is here. I think I'm going to puke.

Hubs: You'll be fine, babe. Really.

Me: Hold on, I'm going to open the box and see how bad the syringe looks. **** Okay, it doesn't seem that bad.

Hubs: Good.

Me: I'm being sarcastic. IT'S A GIANT 3" NEEDLE. And it has to go all the way into my skin.

As I went through my day, all I could think about were all the things that could potentially go wrong with this injection. I did Internet searches with the key words "Lupron shot given incorrectly." You don't even want to know the horrors I read. You will never go near a needle again.

When Hubs got home that evening, I told him I wanted to do it quickly and get it over with. My stepdaughters were home with us (they don't know about all of this stuff) so we put them in front of a movie and said we'd be right back.

Up in our bedroom, Hubs prepared the shot. The directions were about as clear as an IKEA construction manual...if it was in German. One of the notes said very clearly, "once the powder is mixed in with the liquid in the syringe, take the injection immediately to avoid any clumping in the solution."

Of course, we didn't read that little gem until we'd already mixed the powder in with the liquid...and we still needed to determine where exactly to put the needle and how to inject it properly. My panic began. 

"HURRY, HUBS!" I shouted. "The powder is going to clump. IT'S GOING TO CLUUUUMMMP!!!"

"Babe, seriously," he replied, sweat forming on his brow. "I have to read how to inject it. There's a whole thing in these instructions saying you have to be super careful to get it intramuscularly, or it's no good."

Turns out my doc wanted me to take the injection in the bum. Or, in other words, my ass cheek. Super fun.

I lay on the bed and awaited the pain. I bit down on our comforter and waited. And waited. I imagined the long, sharp needle burrowing further and further into my skin and I started to shake. There's no way I was going to get through this. What if I jerked when the needle went in and the whole thing BROKE OFF IN MY BEHIND? Would I have to go to the hospital and explain to them what happened and get it removed? How do you even get a needle out of your -

"Babe? What are you doing?" Hubs asked.

"I'm waiting for the pain. Can you hurry it up, please?" I replied, irritated.

"I've been done for like, 10 seconds,' he said patting my backside. "You can get up. I thought you were crying into the pillow, so I didn't want to bother you."

Wait, I was done?? Like, DONE? I hadn't felt a thing! Maybe a little pinch, but nothing compared to getting blood drawn or samples removed from my uterus.

Not one tear had escaped my cheek. 

I was officially a bad ass.

Hubs high-five'd me and of course I complimented him on his amazing nursing skills. Only one more shot of this in 28 days. It was all going to be okay.

"Now just remember," Hubs said as he put the used needle in the bio-hazard container. "You're going to be at your sales meeting in Veas when it's time for this next month, so you'll have to inject yourself. But I know you can do it!!!"

Cue the dramatic soap opera music...

XOXO,