August 2 – “Pass me the prednisone”

We took a trip into Texas yesterday.  It was time for my very first shot that I give to myself.  On purpose.  Quite a step in the grand scheme of intellectual and emotional development, don’t you think?  I know there are people who do it all the time – diabetics and people highly allergic to stuff for example.   But theirs is a life or death situation.  Mine is a pain or less pain situation.  Endure pain so that the pain you already endure has a chance to be not quite as severe.  Interesting trade-off.

I was surprisingly calm as the moment approached.  We checked in and took our place in the lobby at the unfinished jigsaw puzzle, the same one that we worked on the last time we were there.  A lot more of it had been completed, and we were able to add five or six pieces toward finishing the product.  Grapes.  That was the picture.  Bunches of grapes.  Grapes all look the same, except some are green and some are purple or red.  But they are all just enough alike to make a puzzle like that difficult.  We even switched to the tactic of looking for specific shapes and ignoring the colors.  Great diversion from thoughts of an impending shot.

We were finally called back and the slow march began, more of a trudge, actually.  The nurse was very pleasant and engaged us in appropriate small talk as she got everything ready.  Since this was my first time I got a complementary man bag (her words, not mine) from the drug company in case I ever have to carry the medicine with me on a trip.  You only take it once a month, so it seems to me you could make adjustments in your schedule so as not to have to carry it through airport screenings.  And it also has to be kept refrigerated.  But I now have a cool bag with a practice shot-to-yourself giver in it.  How very European of me.  Guess I’d fit in at the Olympics.

The nurse finished all her preparations and set in to getting the job done.  Sit up straight.  Feet flat on the floor.  I felt like I was in kindergarten again.  She rubbed the cool alcohol swab over the selected site in my leg.  That would be temperature cool.  What would be culture cool about alcohol on your leg?  Finally she broke open the handy dandy shot applicator case.  Looked like a toy rocket ship we got one time years ago at NASA.  She placed it properly – 90 degree angle – and pressed it tightly against my skin.  And then she said, “You do it.  Just push that button.”  Now I thought part of the deal was that she would actually do the injection, but I’m game to try just about anything.  So I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.  I squeezed the tiny rocket ship until I heard a click, then let go.  Following instructions, I maintained all positions until I heard the second click.  I waited for the telltale pinch or sting or any evidence of a needle stick at all.   Nothing.  I never felt anything.  Now that’s the kind of shot to take.  She put the requisite bandaid over the site and declared us finished.  I couldn’t think of any pressing questions to ask, so we headed on out.

Of course the questions came once we got to the car.  Fortunately the man bag was full of information about the drug itself and how to use it and what to expect.  That’s where my questions centered – what to expect.  It took a while but I finally found the answer I was looking for.  How long before I would be able to tell if it made a difference?  Minutes?  Hours?  Days?  A week?  Ah, ever the optimist am I.  The information packet even went with us into Luby’s, and I finally came across the answer.  It could take as long as three months.  Three doses.  Three shots.  In the meantime … pass me the prednisone.

  

Psalms 18:46 says, “The Lord lives! Praise be to my Rock! Exalted be God my Savior!”

Father, my plan is to keep on praising you even if the shots are ineffective.  Please be my Rock.  Amen.