What the doctor suggests is that I give myself the shots. Makes sense since someone may not always be home. But have you ever tried to do this? If so, and you were successful, I need some tips. I would rather get stuck in an elevator (I'm claustrophobic) than give myself a shot. But I attempted it. One day when no one else was home, I had no choice but to give it to myself. I counted down the minutes; I have to get them at the same time every night. I was dreading it, and second by second I knew what was coming. I prepared all of the shots and thought that if I watched TV at the same time, it wouldn’t be so bad. I grab a piece of my stomach and sit there with the needle just close enough to my skin not to touch it. Three, two, one…............I can’t, I can’t do it. Deep breath, threeeeee, twooooo, one...............…god dammit. Ugh! Okay, no count down this time, just watch the TV and pick up the needle and jab it in (like I’m going to catch myself off guard). Reeeaaady NOW.............…I can’t do it. Shit. Why am I such a pussy! I know that it’s only going to hurt for a second, but to see the needle go into the skin…I’m sweating.
I take out an orange and an avocado and “practice” on those. I know damn well that it’s not going to feel the same as sticking those fruits, but I’m trying to get a sense of how hard I have to push to get it in the skin.
A half hour goes by and I’m still counting down, trying to stick myself. I bounce one right off my skin, I don’t know how, but there’s a bruise. This shot session is going downhill fast and yep...I’m now hysterical. Crying my eyes out and totally pissed off at myself. I’m pathetic, I can’t do it. I tried and I just can’t bring myself to do it. I’m going to call Joey and just tell him that this is ridiculous and I can’t do it anymore. This is stupid. That’s it, I’m giving up. It’s just not meant to be.
I know how upset he’ll be with this news, so I sit and cry and dwell on it for a few more minutes. The next best thing to do is, of course, call mom. I call my mom, who just so happens to live around the corner, and she tells me to come over and she’ll give me the shots. Why the hell didn’t I just do this 40 minutes ago? What could I possibly have to prove to myself by giving myself a shot? I swallow my pride and arrive defeated. She gives me a big hug, we cry for a minute, and then she gives me the shots. As I walk out the door, in true dad form, my dad sarcastically says, “Welp, did that hurt”. Of course it didn’t and now I’m even more pissed at myself for making such hoopla out of it. It would have hurt less if I would have just given it to myself and went to freakin’ sleep an hour ago. I text Joey and tell him I got the shots and don’t feel like talking. He texts me back and says how proud of me he is for trying so hard. I guess this will all be worth it.
Nonetheless, I will not be attempting to give myself any more shots. I ain’t too proud to beg. I have enlisted three people to administer the shots so far and yes, you could be next. Raising a child takes a village and, in my case, getting pregnant does too.
And the saga continues: Joey would like me to add that while I was at my mom's house, he had been calling my phone. By the tenth try he thought I had passed out, hit my head on the table and had convinced himself that he needed to come home to revive me. Luckily, I texted him before he left the station. Oh, the drama, all over a little half-inch needle!
My Random Thought: I've been feeling pretty good and today I thought I was all pieced together until I went to the bathroom and my underwear was on inside out.