Dear Sunday,used to love you very much. I enjoyed your early morning sleep in. I enjoyed your sweet cup of morning coffee. I enjoyed your lazy brunch and crock pot dinner. I'm afraid that love has since passed.
This morning you met me (well my hoo-ha actually, she's angry now but I'm sure she'll thank you later) with progesterone suppositories and my sweet round buttocks with Progesterone in oil injections. Where was the love? Our affair is over.
It's only been a couple of months since my last experience with the injections, you'd think my memory and my behind would remember...right? Wrong! When it was time for this mornings first PIO, I took a deep breath, held on to the edge of the table I lean against for dear life, and tried to find my happy place and keep the muscle relaxed.
What I do remember is that as long as your “nurse” keeps the needle straight and does the stick without any hesitation, there really isn't any more than a tiny prick. Now, there were some days when for whatever reason….I wiggled or Adam wiggled or the planets weren't lined up right…that I was definitely aware of the needle, but nothing I couldn’t tolerate. After each injection, Adam massaged the spot for a few seconds, I’d walk around for a couple of minutes and that would be it. Today's injections was different.
The injection itself didn't hurt. But the sensation of driving the needle in was extremely upsetting. Why? I'm not sure. Perhaps Saturn and Jupiter's orbits weren't quite aligned? This is the best way that I know how to describe it. Assemble the following:
- 1 plastic drinking straw, the bigger the diameter the better
- a slightly frozen piece of steak
I have a little more love to give to Monday now that Sunday and I are finished...I hope Monday is kinder to me!