Needles . . .

I hate needles. So much so that it took me 30 minutes to inject myself with the Lupron this morning. We are in SC visiting my sister in lieu of our ski trip (the resort closed down due to the economy), and I didn't want to have to draw attention to myself to get Chris to do it. SO I tried to be brave and do it myself.


I sat in the bed for about 30 minutes with the needle ready, and I couldn't bring myself to do it. I laid there with the needle suspended over my stomach, and the thought of me puncturing my skin with THAT . . . I couldn't do it. I prayed. I practiced stabbing the alcohol swab. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. I determined that people who shoot up drugs (illegal ones, that is) MUST be crazy. I prayed some more.


Finally, I was able to do it very, very, very slowly. And thus, it hurt and left a nice red spot on my stomach. Around the nice red spot are a bunch of little red dots from my stabbing and stopping routine. Me and needles . . . not friends. And this is only the beginning . . .

And P.S --I'm coming down with Noah's cold; the one that gave him a raging fever. The one that sent us to the ER and got us a pneumonia diagnosis. Not fun.