Feeling wimpy

I did it.

I officially survived my first day of stims.

Technically, I suppose it would be my third day of stims since I started the Femara on Thursday (that counts, right?) but yesterday was the big day--the day I joined the ranks of human pincushions everywhere, with a grand total of four injections in less than 24 hours.

I know, I know, it could be much, much worse (how do diabetics do it?) but, well...I'm a wimp.  OK, I admit it.

Yes, I've complained mightily about the early morning ultrasounds, I've fretted about weight gain, but it's the shots--oh yes, the shots--that I've been dreading more than anything else.

I don't know why I've always had a thing about needles.  One of my clearest childhood memories is of a trip to the pediatrician's office for vaccinations when I was four.  Not long afterward, I was on the ground in the parking lot with my head between my knees. I think I scared the bejeezus out of my poor mother.

That was the beginning of a long and illustrious history of needle incidents. 

Then there was the time a few years ago when I went to the health center for a fasting blood draw and ended up out cold on the floor with six doctors standing over me.  I think someone must have sounded a building-wide alarm.  After 3 hours of pleading and cajoling, I finally convinced the nurse that I wouldn't die if she unhooked the heart and blood pressure monitors and let me go to work. 

Somehow it feels like cosmic justice that this same woman--the one who risks a week in bed with the flu every year just to avoid a 5 second flu shot--should now be subjected to 4x daily injections with IVF meds.  Clearly someone upstairs has a sense of humor.  

The whole situation has put quite a crimp in my office travel schedule.  That's not to say I didn't (briefly) consider it (c'mon Julize, you're a big girl now--you can handle this).  What's the worst that could happen?  The airport cleaning lady finds me passed out in a bathroom stall with a needle in my hand? The TSA confiscates $3,000 worth of pre-filled syringes as I'm forced to explain in front of 2 co-workers, why my large stash of needles and suspicious looking vials are medically necessary? 

Hmmm, OK, maybe travel isn't such a good idea after all.

Of course, traveling for work would also require me to actually  1) look at a needle, and 2) complete the step of piercing my skin with it.  DH has become quite skilled at both steps.  Me, not so much.

Fortunately, I've made it through thus far without any head-between-the-knees moments, and I think we've developed a pretty good system of shared responsibility.

I lay on the bed and cover my eyes while DH does everything else. :)

And you know what?  It really isn't THAT bad.  I mean, in the world of painful, pain-in-the-ass things there are much worse than Repronex (code name "hellfire") and a few sticks with a Gonal-F pen (endometrial biopsy, anyone?). 

Regardless, there are 5 days of stims on my calendar and I’m really, really hoping I don’t need more.  Five days of this is more than enough for one cycle, thank you very much.

Do you hear that ovaries?  You're officially on notice.