Day three of Lupron. I can handle this!
At least that's what I thought..
I've been doing my own injections now for three days. The first day, I'll admit, I had a bit of an anxiety attack taking the cover off the needle and realizing that I had to put that in my skin. But I held my breath and did it, and it actually didn't hurt! Apparently the 5/8" needles are small enough that they really don't make that much of an impact. These are called subcutaneous injections; they only need to go into the fat under the skin, not all the way through to the muscle. The muscle shots are the ones that hurt.
...or so I'm told.
So, of course I was feeling pretty good about myself when I talked to my clinic coordinator yesterday about what was going to happen after the transfer. She had a list of medications that she had ordered for me, and wanted to know which ones I had gotten and which I hadn't. Sadly, I hadn't received a single thing on the list.. including the 1 1/2" needles that I noticed at the top of the list.
Seeing that, I kind of freaked. Somehow I had convinced myself that I would only have to continue these subcutaneous injections, since they were a piece of cake. I could do those for 3 months if I had to! So I started asking questions, trying to find out if the shots were absolutely necessary, if there was any other option, etc.
Well I guess I ruffled some feathers. Suddenly I"m receiving worried emails from my Intended Father asking why I was upset about the shots and didn't want to do them,.. emails from my clinic coordinator saying 'this is the only way we can do this' which I know is a load of crap.. and this morning came the kicker..
Now, I was just looking into my options. Yes, I panicked a little. but let me explain something. I'm the one who at the age of 15 had a severely traumatic experience getting my final set of shots from the doctors office. I'm the one who at the age of 16 had to have radioactive dye shot into my bloodstream to determine if my mysterious ankle pain was blood-flow related. I made them chase me around the treatment room and hold me down to get that into me. I am not fond of needles. So just me saying that these injections that I"m doing now are a piece of cake is a HUGE step. I think I have come a VERY long way in my ability to deal with things that I am uncomfortable with. Additionally, they've had me on hormones now for three weeks. I've been on birth control, which makes me angry.. and now they have me on Lupron, which suppresses my estrogen production, makes my milk harder to produce, and has made me very highly emotional. I don't think a day has passed since I started these injections that I haven't cried for a substantial amount of time. So yeah.. maybe I over-reacted. But seriously, give me a break. I was just trying to find an alternate solution, if there was one. I didn't involve anyone else because I wanted to find out the options for myself before concerning anyone else. I'm very analytical about those types of things and usually do a lot of research and discovery before making any sort of decisions.
At 8:30am my phone rang. My agency coordinator is on the other line, saying 'I received two emails, one from (Intended father) and one from (clinic coordinator) saying you have concerns and are not willing to do the progesterone injections. What is going on?'
Are you serious?? That is NOT what I said!
As I'm trying very calmly to explain this to my agent-lady, she reminds me 'when we originally talked I did say there were other options for the progesterone, but we always go along with what the doctor recommends'. So, since the clinic was unwilling to discuss alternatives, I'm stuck with the shots.
And that's when the shots started showing their true colors.
I started crying.. told her how I'm terrified of the bigger needles, that I'd convinced myself it would be all the small needle shots which I can do but I am not sure I will be able to handle the intramuscular shots every day for 8-10 weeks after transfer.
Luckily, my agency coordinator is very sweet. She has been so understanding and encouraging with me through all of this. She assured me that we could find a nurse that would be able to come and give me the injections so that I wouldn't have to do it myself. She also told me that she speak to the clinic coordinator and figure out what the problem was. It was clear this was a communication issue, and I expressed my disappointment in the clinic's ability to clearly communicate to me what was supposed to happen when, the mix-ups with medications, and how I felt completely in the dark about what I was supposed to be doing.
I feel a little better as the day has gone on and the conversation is in the past. I was really mad this morning that the clinic went over my head and caused such a rift in communication with my intended father and agency coordinator. But I guess they were just doing their job.
Like I said.. I can handle this..