Yeah, so, having to give yourself an injection is kinda weird.
Just in case you don’t remember, after this round of chemo I was ordered to give myself Neupogen shots for five days, which will help me create more white blood cells. Last time around, my white blood cells were as low as the box office receipts for “Mordecai” (hey-oh!), and I spent a few days in the hospital. While in the hospital, I had my first-ever panic attack. That sucked. I’m willing to do whatever it takes to keep that from happening again … including sticking myself with a needle.
In order to make it happen every day, I had to give myself a scheduled time: 10 a.m. At 10 a.m. I have to stick myself with a needle, whether I like it or not. At 9:30 a.m. I took a Claritin, because apparently Claritin (yes, the allergy medicine) can help prevent the bone aches that comes with giving yourself a shot to create more white blood cells. Drugs are amazing, right?
No one wants to stick themselves with needles. Tip of the hat to all you intravenous drug users. I don’t know how you do it. As mighty, mighty good man David pointed out to me, “It’s a testament to how great the heroin high must be, because people willing stick themselves with needles to get it. And they ruin their veins and find other places to stick needles like between their toes.”
I will never be a intravenous drug user, because I really hated sticking myself with a needle. I wouldn’t dare ask David to do it for me. Apparently, I’m totally fine with David changing my mastectomy bandages, seeing me go bald, emptying my drains and watching me push out a kid, but grabbing some of my belly fat and stabbing it with a needle is where I draw the line. After everything we’ve been through, I don’t want him to touch my belly fat. I’m so vain. I probably think this blog post is about me.
Anyway, I made it through the five days of injections. Hopefully I can keep my white blood cell counts up and avoid a hospital stay this time around. That would be awesome.