Post #58: Poke poke

Aim for the sweet spot!
 

After scrolling through pictures of syringes and starting to hyperventilate a little, I give you headless injection girl (prepubescent boy?).

Ok, so I guess you know where this post is heading! After months of stalling, eating spelt, curling into the fetal position, steroids, immunosuppresents, and side effects, I have arrived at this place (or I will, come Friday). I will jab a pre-filled syringe into one of the targets illustrated above (or, as the nurse told me, a place where you have a lot of fat-so many choices!). I have resisted this place for so long that having several thousand dollars worth of the medicine chilling in the fridge and staring at me every time I reach for the soy butter is surreal. It's here, it's happening, and come Friday, it's going in my belly (fat).

I've known that this was the next course of action for about a month now, but I haven't fully reconciled myself with the reality of the situation. I've become very adept at blocking any and all thoughts of what I might experience. It's like there's is a very effective team of tiny footballer players in my brain that tackle any stray thoughts of what could happen, or how it will feel, or if I'll really be able to shoot up, or if I'll pass out in front of the doctor/nurse. But I've been giving those little thought-blockers a workout. They've been so busy, and I haven't been sharing my Gatorade/steroids, so worries are starting to slip through the cracks (see above). With increasing frequency, these little stray thoughts will pop up and I'll experience a cold slice of fear while, say, loading the dishwasher. It's disconcerting, but in general the strategy has helped me power through the last few weeks.

I don't want to say I'm in a place of acceptance about all of this, because part of me wants to bust out those very expensive syringes and run them over repeatedly with my car. It's hard to explain, but you know when you're in a doctor's office and about to have a procedure, and you kind of still your body and brace yourself for impact? There's a moment, when the doctor is wielding something pointy/sharp, that is beyond fear. It's a recognition that you are too far in to back out, and that it-whatever you have been dreading or fearing or waiting for-is going to happen. For someone who is constantly attempting to control her environment, there is a calmness about that space. It's going to happen.  

That's where I am. Not happy, still afraid, but trying to still myself for all the possibilities that might unfold.

With a few exceptions, I don't really know who reads this blog, whether you have Crohn's or just really enjoy hearing about the diversity of my bowel movements. If you do have Crohn's, and you've been where I'm about to go, please share your advice/experiences. If you don't have Crohn's, you can say nice things about my hair (I know you haven't seen it, but just assume it's pretty). Both contributions are appreciated.