Part 13

After the overwhelming IVF class, I finally got all of my questions answered.  I talked to Sarah later in the week on the phone and was feeling much more comfortable with what was about to happen.

It’s now April 21st and my medicine arrives via overnight courier just in time for me to start the antibiotic tomorrow (they have you take an antibiotic for 7 days just in case you have any infections brewing – which I despise because I generally don’t take medicine at all – ever).  All of my fertility medicines come from a pharmacy in Chicago that handles everything.  They ship overnight and they work specifically with Dr. Carnovale’s office.  I have one person, named Jack, that I call when I need more meds or needles or a sharps container, etc.  Before the medicines arrive, Jack walked me through, on the phone, which medicines need to be refrigerated, how they’ll come packaged, which medicines get shipped later because they have a very short shelf life, and what I should do with my sharps container when it’s full.

When the medicines arrive, they are two very large boxes.  I’m already overwhelmed.  One box is labeled “REFRIGERATE IMMEDIATELY”.  I open that box first.  Inside the box is a styrofoam cooler.  I open the cooler to find boxes of medicine.  I pull them out and start inspecting them.  Follistim – check.  Cetrotide – check.   The cooler is full of just those two medicines.  I open the refrigerator to begin making room.  I have to clear out an entire drawer of vegetables to make room for the massive amount of drugs that now need to be stored there.   I stow those drugs and begin opening the next box.

The next box is full of needles and syringes and bags upon bags of stuff.  I pull everything out and try to make sense of it.  Menopure – check.  Novarelle – check.  Dioxycycline – check.  Prometrium – check.  I’m overwhelmed by all of it, trying to make sure I have everything, and organize it into some sort of order so I can be efficient as possible.

I have to clear out an entire shelf of our pantry to make room for the meds and the needles and the alcohol swabs and the sharps container and all the other crap that just came in the mail.  I don’t want it sitting out.  I don’t want the constant reminder of what’s happening to me.  I want my life to be as normal as possible.  So I decide to stick it all in a closet and a drawer and pull it out one or two times a day as needed.  I don’t want to be reminded, every time I walk into the kitchen, of what’s happening to me.  Over the next thirty days, I am going to be pumping into my body more medicine than I’ve seen in a lifetime.

I feel – again overwhelmed – and a little scared about all the drugs I am going to be pumping into my body over the next 30 days.

The next morning I wake up and it’s the first day for meds.  Today is just antibiotic (twice a day) and a low dose aspirin (they want your blood nice and thin to avoid the clots that can occur from all the hormones).  I have two days of just pills before I have to start injections.  Generally I am feeling optimistic about my ability to give myself shots.  I mean, people do it all the time right?  I watched one of my best friends in grade school take blood and give herself shots at the age of 10 with juvenile diabetes.  If a 10-year old can do it – so can I.  I’m going to be fine.  The needles aren’t really that big anyway.

The next morning, I wake up and head downstairs to prepare for my first shot.  I’ve never injected anything into my own body.  I couldn’t even pierce my own ears.  Granted, in my teenage rebellion years, I put plenty of holes in my body, but those holes were done by a professional, with novacaine.    I’m nervous….really nervous… all of the sudden.

I am really afraid I am going to screw it up.  I’m going to do it wrong or give myself the wrong dose or the wrong medicine or hit a vein or something.  So to prepare, I pull everything out, including my instruction sheets from the doctor.  I lay them out of the counter in the kitchen.

I read through each sheet very carefully.  First I read the Follistim sheet.  While I am reading the instructions, I am following along, loading the pen, attaching the needle, dialing the dosage.  I set the pen down on it’s handy carrying case, with the needle cap still on and begin reading the two pages about giving myself a “belly shot”.

I finish reading.  My hands are trembling.

I open an alcohol swab and select the area for the injection.  Clean it.

I then pinch that area of my belly with my left hand and pick up the syringe with my right hand.  With my teeth, I pull off the needle guard, hold the pen like a dart in my right hand and place my thumb on the plunger.  Ready to go.

According to the to instructions all I have to do now is, “insert the needle into the fold of skin in a quick dart-like motion, making sure the entire needle is inserted.”

Okay, Jessica.  You can do this.  You can do this.  It’s just a little baby needle.  You can do this.  One…  Two… Three…

Nothing.  I’m still standing there, syringe in hand, trembling.

I stand there are stare at the needle and my belly for what felt like at least five minutes.  Finally –

Listen Jessica, you have to do this.  Get over it.  

I look down and the needle is in my stomach.  I feel the sharp ping of the needle.  I push down on the plunger, pull the needle out and apply pressure.

I did it.

Just as I finish, Ben walks in to the kitchen, “Are you getting ready to shoot up?  I’m leaving.”

“It’s already done.” I say.

Ben then says, “How did it go?”

I reply, “Terrifying.”

Day two, day three and day four of injections go about the same way.  It takes me forever to work up enough courage to stick the needle in.   By day five, I don’t need the instructions and stabbing myself feels like hopscotch – really hard to screw up.

Ben marveled every day at what he called “my bravery”.  Every day he would say to me, “I’m really proud of you babe.  You’re so brave.”

It’s amazing how quickly we get desensitized to things, by the 5th day it felt like no big deal.  By the day of my baseline appointment, giving myself a shot every morning felt routine in the same way as brushing my teeth.