thou shalt not stabbeth thy self

Well I survived the first injection. I had insisted to my husband and to everyone else that I would be the one to give myself the shots, at least the subcutaneous ones. I studied the technique. I read many manuals. I perused the drug literature several times. I felt ready. It looked like a breeze (diabetics do it every day, why can't I?). So on Shabbos, about an hour before I was supposed to do the deed, I got major shpilkes (nervous nelly syndrome). I kept walking into the living room, where my husband was reading his latest paperback, and I said "maybe I should start preparing now for the shot". My husband looked at me as he does every time I get nervous about something new. This wasn't just something new - I was about to stab myself!!

At about 15 minutes before the self-assigned time, I sat down at the dining room table and started to assemble the injection kit, which contains alchohol pads, a small vial of Lupron, and sterile insuline syringes. It was quite surreal. This now was a part of our lives. I began to slowly panic.....

How hard should I inject? Will it hurt so bad that I'll faint? Will it feel like a safety pin? What if it won't go in?? And I have to do this every day and soon to be twice a day! If I can't do it myself, then I'm really a big baby!!

I dutifully re-read the clinic's patient instructions and follow it as if a recipie: wash hands (I did twice), wipe top of vial with alcohol pad, insert needle into the vial, draw the Lupron in to the syringe, make sure of no air bubbles, wipe injection site with alcohol pad, pinch injection site, position syringe in hand to inject Lupron into skin, and...and...and....HAND WON'T GO! With husband standing next to me for support, he witnessed me attempting to inject myself, but somehow the needle never touched my skin. "Ok honey, it's like taking off a Band-Aid....just DO it". I tried that - for 35 minutes I tried to muster up courage and talk myself into doing it....counting 1, 2, 3....and my hand chickened out every time. More panic. I started to hyperventilate. My hand that held the syringe turned ice cold. I was scared. I started to cry. I'm such a baby, I thought. My husband, who was understandibly at the end of his rope of being coach, finally said to me "do you want me to do this?".

I reluctantly said yes - I was paralyzed by fear, and at this point, did't want anyone to inject me. He then walked over to the bathroom to wash his hands, and came back to me. I was still pinching the injection site for dear life. "Let go" he said, as he took over and I closed my eyes. It took 2 seconds. It was over. HE DID IT!!!! I didn't even feel it. I thought for a split second that it didn't work. But he did it!! Thank G-d for my husband. He saved the day!! I hugged him and said thanked him profusely. It was over. At least for tonight. He offers to do this again tomorrow for me. Maybe I'll try it again myself after a few days, but it's so wonderful to know that my darling husband is willing to do it and is quite competent at this. One less thing to stress about!