Mark woke me up this morning to take my shot and I was highly anxious. And by highly anxious I mean marriage-damaging with my fright, raving like a lunatic, shaking - I was terrified about my shot.
(this is after 10 tattoos and a natural birth.)
Mark was patient, gentle and ready to take aim. (a little TOO ready if you ask me)
To make a very long story short (like seriously 45 minutes of raving/ranting/worrying) finally I was in position, ready for the inch and a half needle to plummet into the depths of my poor muscle. I felt like a cow. I wondered if my butt was a sirloin or a nice filet. I hope a filet so the muscle would be tender. :-)
BOOM. Needle in. Oh damn, that's not so bad, oh wait, OW, ok, almost done, OW, ok ready to pull it out, ok DONE. Needle is out. WHEW. IT'S OVER!!!!!!!!!!
right???
Mark looks at me. And looks at the needle.
"Oh no, there's still medication in the needle. Royal fuck up. I'm so sorry."
"Oh my god. We have to do this AGAIN?"
"Like I said, royal fuck up. Totally my bad."
I had to laugh. The look on his face and the hilarity of the entire morning was laughable and fit for a cartoon.
BOOM, in goes the second one. Done, for real this time.
Until tonight. And two times tomorrow and twice daily for the following five days. :-)
My butt is certainly sore, almost down to the kneepcap but it just feels like my brother punched/kneed me hard in thigh like he did that one Christmas. (grumble, grumble)
I feel much better about the process now and am not as fearful as before. I'm sure I'll get anxious before each injection but at least I know what I'm in for, and at least I have one hell of a nurse.
Thanks, honey. :-)
