Adventures in Heparin or: The One About “The Bleeds”

Adventures in Heparin or: The One About “The Bleeds”

Because we began seeing a specialist…well, really the specialist earlier this year, they were my first call when I got that second pink line. We’re way past the ooey gooey stage of announcing pregnancy in a cute way. I actually called my doctor first, husband second. He’s lucky. The last time I found out I was pregnant I just tossed the stick in his general direction and said “Looks like you did it again.” on my way to the kitchen. Call me a romantic.

It’s not that we’re not excited to be pregnant. It’s just that we’ve learned that for us,  getting that second pink line is like being told we’ve been picked as semi-semi-semi finalists for the Millionaire Sweepstakes. That’s all well and good, but call me when I’ve won the real money.

So Dr. Risky and his midwife had me come in right away so they could teach me how to give myself a shot. At first I was very nonchalant about this. I am not one squeamish about needles. I drew the dose, swabbed my skin, guided the needle into position and then…I just stopped. I couldn’t pierce my own skin.

“This is actually harder than  I thought” I said to the midwife.

“Yeah, it’s much easier to do it to someone else.” she confessed. “It helps to go fast.”

So I did, and it really wasn’t that bad. Yet. The practice shot was just saline. The actual medicine is a blood thinner that, it turns out, burns like the fires of hell going in and then leaves a huge purple bruise. But I digress…

After a couple days of giving myself shots and us noticing how bruised my belly was getting, Toby offered to help me do the shot somewhere else. Somewhere posterior that I couldn’t really reach and see simultaneously.

“Just don’t hit a muscle.” I warned. “It has to go in something flabby or it’s going to hurt worse.”

I still don’t know what he hit. A muscle? A nerve? Either way, I hit the ceiling. The needle came with me, bending sideways and scratching my skin as it was yanked out. Toby immediately promised never to give me another shot again so long as I lived. I think he could actually use some PTSD counseling about this incident.

And where was Robbie for this? He was standing just outside the door, cackling with maniacal glee at the show his parents were putting on for him.

I did the shot over and we headed off to run errands. We were in the light bulb aisle two hours later when I noticed this curious sensation. Every time I took a step with my left foot, my shorts seemed to catch on my skin…back there.

“Am I bleeding?” I asked, and Toby confirmed I was.

At least it was the aisles of Walmart we were wandering. Even with a three inch blood stain on my left cheek I am pretty sure I would not have been in the running for my own spot on People of Walmart.

Since then, I’ve just stuck with the belly shots. If I’m going to have “the bleeds” in public I’d much rather they were in a place I can monitor.

  • avatar image
    Sharon Briggs
    December 10th, 2010 at 1:05 pm

    Holly, I hope you don’t get mad when I tell you that I laughed hysterically as I read this. You just have a way of making things that shouldn’t be funny seem funny. I love reading your stories!!!

    Reply
  • avatar image
    FruitFly
    December 10th, 2010 at 3:11 pm

    Oh my goodness!
    The vision I have in my head right now of your angelic little son is hysterical!

    When you are on that Walmart website, please share the link with us all so we can enjoy your 15 minutes of bloody fame! 😉

    Reply

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