The Reality of Thursday

These days I have a pill-reminder-box. It is so much easier to fill it just once a week than to have to dispense what I need every day from multiple bottles. It's not just an ordinary pill box, it's an am/pm pill-reminder box. And I use both sides 2 days a week. In case you're wondering, yes, it makes me feel like I'm 87. Seriously, it's ridiculous.

Every Thursday as I open the a.m. side I am reminded of what remains in the p.m. side. Without fail I ask Steve, "do you know what today is?" He never gets it wrong. "It's Thursday," he says. "Do you know what that means?" I ask. "Yep, I do," he replies. We both know. It's injection day. I sigh. I hate Thursdays. I have begun to think I will never get used to them and in reality, I do not want to accept this is part of my life, each week, every week, indefinitely.

Most weeks the pain is not all that intense, at least not until the very end which lasts 5-10 seconds. Other weeks it hurts from the first click. It all depends on the location and to avoid a reaction we have to move it around. I cry not over the physical pain although I do frequently plead with Steve to make it stop. He can't do anything to make it stop and I know that. This would probably frustrate or anger a different person. Not my ever-steady Steve. No, he puts his hand out and quietly says, "Squeeze my hand. You're alright. It's almost over."

I cry because of emotion. I don't want to do this every week. I am reminded each time of the limitations this brings to my life. I have to be home on the day it's shipped to me. As we travel, I have to think about how to keep it cool and plan what we can do on any given day to work around it. I hate it. It drives me crazy. But those are only the minor frustrations. The big tears fall because I don't want to be sick. I don't want to inject this junk in my body every week.

Steve's been doing the injections, not because I can't but because I just don't want to. When there comes a week he's not around I can and will do it. But for now I don't have to and I choose not to. After it's over we wait for 30 minutes to see if an immediate reaction is coming and then I head to bed. By this time I can hardly keep my eyes open as the Benadryl has taken affect. For the next few minutes Steve stays awake to see if my breathing is normal before he goes to sleep himself. This is at my request. He believes that since we're 4 months into it, I am probably not going to react. He's very confident but it makes me nervous; scares me actually yet he indulges me in this for my peace of mind.

And then it's Friday.