The Evil Needle Chronicles, part I
So. Thursday, I was given the Byetta shot. I can't sleep, so I am chronicling what will become either my success or failure.
Day 1: Thursday. Glare at the Byetta. Decide tomorrow is a better day to start than today.
Day 2: Friday. My instructions are to take it 30 minutes before breakfast. Upon waking, it is my first thought. My stomach flips. I get up and try to put it out of my mind. I sit down to check email, and I feel funny. Numb, kinda. Loopy. Nauseaus. Ahh....the joy of new meds. I throw furtive glances at the chair that holds the bag that holds the box that holds the needle. I decide I'm not hungry anyway. I go to mom's. Eventually, she asks me if I've eaten. I say no, and she says it's 1:00, and I need to eat. I am slightly confused at where my time has gone. I call work. I eat a half a sandwich and head to town, forgetting to take the meds with me. I may have thought about it briefly, but chose to forget it. Went home later, went to bed. Started writing. Started thinking. Had to get up. Had to know. Opened the bag, box, took out the needle. Uncapped it, and got a faint whiff of 'band aid' antiseptic. My stomach flipped, a wave of panic washed through me. I recapped it and put it back in its box. I sat down and stared at it. I got up and paced. Took it out of the box, put the tip to my skin. Complete panic. Hands shaking. Nauseaus. Put it down. Pace. I'm getting pissed now, too. I tried again. Failed again. Tried again. Failed again. And again. Flung it on the couch. Disgusted with myself. This is ridiculous. Now I'm a coward AND an insomniac. Frickin great.
Day 1: Thursday. Glare at the Byetta. Decide tomorrow is a better day to start than today.
Day 2: Friday. My instructions are to take it 30 minutes before breakfast. Upon waking, it is my first thought. My stomach flips. I get up and try to put it out of my mind. I sit down to check email, and I feel funny. Numb, kinda. Loopy. Nauseaus. Ahh....the joy of new meds. I throw furtive glances at the chair that holds the bag that holds the box that holds the needle. I decide I'm not hungry anyway. I go to mom's. Eventually, she asks me if I've eaten. I say no, and she says it's 1:00, and I need to eat. I am slightly confused at where my time has gone. I call work. I eat a half a sandwich and head to town, forgetting to take the meds with me. I may have thought about it briefly, but chose to forget it. Went home later, went to bed. Started writing. Started thinking. Had to get up. Had to know. Opened the bag, box, took out the needle. Uncapped it, and got a faint whiff of 'band aid' antiseptic. My stomach flipped, a wave of panic washed through me. I recapped it and put it back in its box. I sat down and stared at it. I got up and paced. Took it out of the box, put the tip to my skin. Complete panic. Hands shaking. Nauseaus. Put it down. Pace. I'm getting pissed now, too. I tried again. Failed again. Tried again. Failed again. And again. Flung it on the couch. Disgusted with myself. This is ridiculous. Now I'm a coward AND an insomniac. Frickin great.
Comments