Yesterday marked week five of being on Avonex, and week one of me NOT injecting the medication myself. Originally I had planned on having someone else do the shot for me, but the chosen few who I would have been comfortable handing this task over to, were less than thrilled about the idea of jabbing me. So I decided that I was okay with giving it a go on my own, and after training with the nurse, I was totally comfortable. After practicing for a bit, I got my meds ready (I do the powder form) and stuck my little one inch needle in the syringe. Before anybody could even catch it, I had stuck it in. I didn't even flinch, and really didn't feel a thing. The other great part about this whole deal, is that I haven't had many side effects to speak of. I'm not sure what this means, but I'm not complaining. Anyhow, back to how I had zero issues week one. By week two, it was just a little bit harder, and the same deal with week three. I did start feeling the injections. Granted it wasn't like someone was sawing off my leg, but it was definitely irritating. Week four I had my first major mental roadblock, and jabbed myself, took it out, and had to re-jab. In between the re-jabbing, I got up and sort of paced around the house, saying out loud, "I don't think I want to do this anymore". Within a few minutes I had gotten over the shit fit, and gotten it done.

So week five was sort of the same deal as week four, only magnified by about ten. I sat there for an hour, just trying to get my hand to stick the needle in. I just couldn't do it. I tried deep breathing. I tried visualization, my version of it anyway. Andy attempted to sing "Eye of the Tiger". I took a smoke break. I paced around the house. No luck. At the risk of sounding like a total lush, I ended up guzzling down four shots of vodka. Well two and two, and mixed with a little tonic, okay! My training nurse had actually told me during week one, that some people like to have a drink before their shot, because it can help them relax. Actually, she only told me this after I had made the joke about the idea of drinking beforehand, but whatever. So I am a total lightweight and when I do have a drink, I normally have one or two, and guzzling isn't involved. So after the first drink, I was like, this wasn't enough, I'm not loosening up. So Andy made me another. I downed this one, and still couldn't get my hand to stick the needle in. I started getting frantic, just because I couldn't turn back now. I was debating on calling my doctor and seeing if their was a nurse in who could give it to me. And then I had a lightbulb moment, and realized that I had a nurse right next door. My awesomely fantastic neighbor Kathleen, who is a nurse at the most appropriate place for dealing with someone like me, the state mental ward. It was right around the time she normally got home, so I sat around for a few minutes watching the window for her to pull in her driveway. Before she was even out of  her car, I was at her driver side window. 

She opened the door of her car, obviously seeing that I was distressed. My hair was a mess, I was wearing pajamas and thigh high socks, with the left leg of my pajamas pulled up so as to expose my shot area. I had a little orange circle drawn where I wanted the needle to go, which is something I've always done. I guess this makes it sort of seem like I could be playing darts. Ah, fun and games! So I immediately welled up into tears and starting drunk babbling about how I just couldn't do it this week, blah blah blah, and I really needed her to come over and give me my shot. She told me to give her fifteen minutes to get the dog inside and what have you, and she would be over. So she gets over to the house and by the time she sits down to give me the shot, I'm well aware of my level of drunkenness. As she got everything ready, after lecturing me on never leaving my needle exposed, which I had done, for over an hour at this point, I fell over on her shoulder. She jabbed me super quick and I was so stressed out that I jumped and was sure she would have to re-do. Nope, she was done. I couldn't believe she had it done in like, three seconds. When I do it, I stick it in, sit there for about two seconds, pull back, and then sloooowly press down on the syringe. I'm always super slow, which leaves more time for freaking out. 

Afterwards, she sat with me for awhile, and had me practice on an orange. Although I was drunk, it was helpful. We sat and bitched about the medical industry, and insurance companies, and she told me a story about one of her craziest patients ever, "the screamer". We take pride in our state mental ward, as One Flew Over the Cuckoos Nest was filmed here. Anyhow, I honestly have the coolest neighbor on the planet, and I am so thankful for her. If she wasn't around, I'm not sure what I would have done. Although I know I would have gotten the job done one way or another, it would have been way more hellacious. The mental anguish alone was enough to make me fear my fricking legs would go numb, or maybe one of my eyeballs would decide to quit working. Ugh. I don't know if it's worth the trouble of trying to be all tough, and do it on my own. 

Kathleen said she would come over again, next Monday night, and work with me on the orange again. She doesn't want me to give up on the idea of doing it myself, but honestly, I really want to. We shall see. If nothing else, she said she wants me to watch the needle next time, to work on desensitizing myself to the whole deal. Even though I spent the first four weeks doing it myself, I have become progressively more petrified each week. It seems like I am going backwards here, although my training nurse warned me that this is something that could potentially happen. I figured that was a bunch of BS, I think I got a little too cocky. 

Either way, I am thankful that I have an awesomely cool nurse for a neighbor who is willing to help out.