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.