Recently after realizing I have a clot the size of Africa in my left arm, I was put on enoxoprin injections which are just a blood thinner a tad heftier than heprin. Orginially I was supposed to be on 5 days of injections and then remain on Coumadin- an oral blood thinner.
The first day I recieve these injections from the pharmacy I was upset to say the least. They are NOT similar to an insulin syringe dear nurse, not even close. I sat at my kitchen table looking at this needle I was supposed to jab into my fatty areas... only to realize I have close to no fat on my body.
I worked myself up into a mental breakdown over this one dauntingly simple task. So much so that I had to call my sister to walk me through it. Voicemail. I didn't want to talk to my Dad or he'd insist on coming down that moment to A. give my doctors a piece of his mind and B. wait on me hand and foot ... so I called my mom. The day before her wedding, while she was getting a pedicure. Sobbing.
I finally just jabbed a pinch of my butt (one of the ONLY places I still have a bit of fattiness) and when it was in I thought the hardest part was over. Little did I know that blood thinners are like 1,000 tiny knives carving out everything in their path under your skin. YIKES! And of course being the medical pro I am I never bothered to read FULLY the instructions (so unlike me) and if I did I must have blacked out because I rubbed that sucker down! I rubbed my butt till my hand hurt hoping it'd ease the pain.
Well, lesson learned. That is the biggest no-no is blood thinners history. Duh. Its a blood thinner, rubbing it makes you bleed! I ended up with this massive LUMP and the grossest bruise that still hurts 8 days later.
And each time my injection time came around (2x day) I broke into a mini mental breakdown. How was I willingly going to inflict pain upon myself every 12 hours?! I finally made it to Tuesday lucky day 5 of my treatment and call the doctors to make sure I was able to stop.
Turns out I have to be on them for 11 more days. Each time they get easier, until that one time I flake out and then the fear creeps up again. I know stabbing the needle into my flesh FAST will be painless but something about quickly moving a needle willingly to my own body freaks me out and I just can't do it. STILL. So I go slow and steady and painfully push it past my dragon hide( I swear skin shouldn't be this tough to break!). Each time I successfully inject myself I promise myself a goodie. "Oh you can definitely go buy that wicker basket now" "You should go get a redbull in celebration!" "This shot was totally worth a puppy"
But I never follow through because I know that like it or not, I'm doing it to keep myself healthy. It may not make me happy now, but when I'm still here 10-15- nay 40 years from now I'll be thankful I didn't throw the towel in and let a clot ruin my chance of having an amazing life.
Enoxaprin, you may sting and bruise, and make me limp all you want but I will keep scrunching up my face, keep hyperventilating, keep cursing you under my breath--or outloud-- and eventually I will show you who's boss. As for you CF, I start work soon so you KNOW I'll be kickin' your butt if you try to get ugly on me. Don't you forget that I have 30 more syringes and I'm *almost* not afraid to use them!
PS this post is way too long for such a simple story but really I don't feel like going back to make it shorter.
