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Tuesday, January 15, 2013

I want to bite the UPS guy

My dogs go absolutely batshit crazy when the UPS guy pulls up to the house.  I think because the delivery guy drops the package, rings the bell, and runs.  My big guy Oliver can spot the truck down the street and starts barking. I really think he would give the guy a great big chomp on the butt if he could.  I have a similar reaction, but only because I know what's in the box.

My Rebif injections are delivered by UPS.  I hate when they pull up to my house because I know there is another three months of my life in that styrofoam cooler.  More pain, and mood swings.  I swear when I look at all my injection sites I look like I've been attacked by an octopus.  I joke that my bikini days are over because of all the quarter sized dots on my body.

I joke a lot to offset my absolute hatred of these injections.  Hatred is a strong word I know.  I never allow my kids to say that word.  It's hurtful and too harsh for casual conversation.  So trust me when I say I hate these shots.  They are a constant reminder of my disease.  They cause me pain.  They screw with my head and emotional well-being.  They cause me to face this disease everyday.  The thought of having to do my shot is on my mind from the time I wake up that day until that evening.  The next day I have to deal with achy muscles, sadness, and just an all around blue mood.

I have tried all the little mental tricks of convincing myself that it's worth the pain. "they keep me walking." "They make me a fighter." "I'm stronger because of them". Doesn't work for me.  I have tried changing my schedule around to compensate for the day after, but I have kids, dogs, and a life.  My only motivation is that my doctor shames me when I don't do the injections as prescribed.  He actually has the nerve to bring my kids, and my husband into the conversation.  Saying things like,"You want to stay healthy for your girls and husband don't you?" Curse him.  He's lucky I respect him.  I wonder what my dogs would think of him?

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