I've Been Shot

Shouldn't I get a T-shirt or something for this?

Wednesday, 7-1-09 (Day 1)

Dexamethasone (.75mg, oral pill): As soon as this little blue steroid pill touched my lips, I gained a pound. Besides the increased appetite that leads to the weight gain, the most common side effect is insomnia, but I somehow managed to avoid that one.

Ate like a pig, slept like a baby.

Lupron (10units, subQ injection): Luckily my mother is a nurse and so graciously came over the night before my meds began to go over everything with me and show me exactly what to do. She even pre-filled the syringe for me that night, so I wouldn't have to stress about it in the morning, since I don't always function properly in the am.

The next morning, I woke up and drug myself to the bathroom, ready and willing to get shot. I swabbed the right side of my lower belly pooch with an alcohol wipe and removed the orange cap from the needle. I pinched the skin, and inserted the needle just as I had been taught while practicing on a tangerine, pleasantly surprised by how smoothly it slid in. The Lupron caused a slight burning sensation and extreme itch followed by what looked like a mosquito bite, but I survived.

I was so proud, until I tried to open up the sharps container to dispose of the needle.

In my defense, there were no instructions. After a few minutes of fumbling and fuming, I resorted to digging my stubby fingernail underneath the edge of the top lid and practically pried the darn thing open.

Whatever works, right?

Thursday, 7-2-09 (Day 2)

Dexamethasone (.75mg, oral pill): I'm prepared for the weight gain, but if this pill takes away my sleep, someone may get hurt.

Lupron (10units, subQ injection): After measuring out the Lupron-unattended for the first time-I headed for the left side and pinched the skin, shoving the needle straight in. But it didn't go in, it just bounced off my skin, resulting in this lovely bruise:

Slightly frustrated, I tried again, this time using a quicker dart-like motion and jabbing the needle in. I pricked my skin enough to draw a tiny bit of blood, but not enough to get the darn thing inside. So one more time, I attempted to stab my pooch-pretending like it was a tangerine instead of my own skin-and finally the needle broke the first layer but still had to be pushed pretty hard to get where it needed to be.

I wish I could say that's where the trouble ended.

Seriously, is my waste container defective, or am I? Eventually my husband opened it for me with little-to-no effort, proclaiming "See Babe? It's easy!", but I'm beginning to think I have issues. I just have to keep telling myself that all I need are a few more days to adjust, and I'll be a professional shooter in no time.

But I have no intentions of quiting my day job.

"There's no secret to getting started. You simply decide and then take your first step. With each subsequent step, the next one becomes easier..."
-Martha Beck