So I managed to "administer" my injection last night. Don't you just love the euphemistic medical language? I poked myself with a needle. Yowzers. My entire life I have been terrified of needles. I would practically hyperventilate when going in for routine bloodwork. Probably until I was, say, 26 when I strangely was compelled to start donating blood. Racing heart, sweaty palms... I can't say I was a strong candidate for self-administering an injection. On the other hand, all of this fertility nonsense has me pretty accustomed to needles now. Surely I do not enjoy a needle to the arm (or belly, or anywhere at all), but if I look away I can handle myself at least.
Of course, the Ovidrel injection required that I look directly at that little pinch of belly fat while I stabbed it with a "quick dart motion."
I made J count down from 5 for me after the alcohol had dried over the injection site. Elizabeth was right, I hardly felt a thing. The anticipation of sticking myself, along with the sight of a syringe sticking out of my abdomen, were positively the worst parts of the whole experience.
I hope with all of my heart I never have to do it again. Not because it was that awful, I could absolutely do it again, with my eyes shut I bet! We just want this to be over. We want this to be it. No more cycles, no more drugs, no more OPK strips, no more weekly envelopes in the mail from Cigna. Just a big, fat positive on my next test.
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