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, 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.
Separated at Birth 