Shots – again

If it weren’t for my twice daily shots — blood-thinners to keep me healthy while I’m banned from using my legs — I think I would be pretty comfortable with my situation right now.

Shots suck. Before I was discharged from the hospital after surgery to repair the diastasis symphsis pubis I sustained during the birth of my son, I was given the choice of this twice daily shot or a pill that would require weekly appointments for monitoring. I selected the shot for convenience. I’m wondering if I made the right decision.

Here’s why:

  • My arms and shoulders are stronger now and don’t hurt at the end of the day.
  •  I’m able to get around fairly well and I’m getting a lot of work done.
  • I’m even doing better getting household things done. Today, for example, I was able to pick up my son as he sat in his walker, I laid him in the recliner to change is diaper, got it done and got him ready to eat. After dinner I got laundry folded and some of it put away. I made a few trips into the kitchen and back.
My belly with bruises and shot marks

My belly, bruises, shot marks and now faint linea negra.

My progress has been awesome, even by my standards. But I dread my shots every time. Sometimes when I stick myself it barely hurts. Other times it hurts more than I remember any shot I got as a child. I’m sure I sound like a baby, but I can’t help it. When I was a kid I always wanted to take off my own bandages because it hurt less. Not so with these shots, it seems.

And each time I give myself one — before I leave for work and just after the Little Guy goes to bed — I think of my dad, my grandpa and my great aunts who had to give themselves insulin shots so frequently. Avoiding insulin dependent diabetes was a big factor in the decision my husband and I made to switch to a whole food, plant based diet. We’ve gone four and a half months on that diet now and we are healthier, according to cholesterol, blood pressure and other tests.

I can’t help but associate these shots with “being sick.” And I am frustrated by it because it is the only thing left that makes me feel like I’m sick. Granted, a pill would have been easier to forget and that could have been dangerous. And a weekly appointment to see the doctor would have been extremely difficult for my family.

No matter, I’m stuck with the shots now until my surgeon says I can use my legs enough to keep my blood flowing properly on its own.

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