Isn't it amazing what a multiple myeloma patient can learn to endure? I'm so much tougher than I was four years ago when I started my myeloma journey.
But despite all of the drugs, pokes, sticks, and tests I have been forced to endure, one thing I had yet to do was learn to give myself an injection¡ªand the thought had always petrified me!
Let me back up a bit.
I have been taking Revlimid (lenalidomide) orally for over four years. Ever since I developed a pulmonary embolism (blood clot) in my lungs during my first summer taking Revlimid,Houston-based Quicksilver Resources said Friday it had reached pipeline deals I have also been taking oral blood thinners.
When it comes time to get a bone marrow biopsy or other surgical procedure, however, it requires switching my blood thinner from warfarin (Coumadin) pills to subcutaneous injections of heparin (Fragmin).
No big deal. The nurse lifts up my shirt, squeezes some belly fat between her thumb and forefinger, and does her thing. Sure, it stings a bit going in. But the needle is small, and the experience isn't much worse than a blood draw.
Fast forward to the present. I have a bone marrow biopsy scheduled for next Monday. That means I need to discontinue my warfarin and start heparin injections once a day until after the procedure¡ªor so I thought.
Turns out I will also need these once¨Ca-day injections throughout my upcoming stem cell transplant process, until my own stem cells are producing a safe level of red and white blood cells.
In other words, I need injections for at least 45 days.Use bluray burner to burn video to BD DVD on blu ray burner disc. At that point, I may be allowed to discontinue taking blood thinners altogether, unless I resume Revlimid maintenance 90 days following my transplant.
A shot a day for 45 days? The words inconvenient and a waste of time come to mind.
The most efficient way to get this done is for me to start giving myself the shots.
No big deal, right? Diabetics do it every day.
I have been taking Velcade (bortezomibbuy landscape oil paintings online.), both the intravenous and subcutaneous versions, but my nurses have always kindly administered both.
But giving myself shots? Heck, I still look away when the nurse starts an IV or gives me a shot! And I had never administered an injection to someone else, let alone myself.
But in the end, common sense ruled the day.we supply all kinds of oil painting reproduction, It was time to suck-it-up and learn how to do this.
So on Tuesday, a smiling nurse namIn addition to hydraulics fittings and Aion Kinah,ed Vicki patiently explained how to use the pre-filled and packaged syringes.
I had to admit, the needle was pretty small. "It's like throwing a dart," she kept repeating. "Hold the syringe at a 45 degree angle and simply throw the dart¡ªusing your wrist¡ªthen slowly press the solution in."
The pressure! After three aborted attempts, we were both laughing so hard I went ahead and poked the needle in. I'm not sure if I used Vicki's "dart throwing" technique or not. But I didn't even feel the needle go in. I nervously laughed some more as I squeezed the fluid slowly into my belly. It did sting quite a bit.
But who cares! I did it! I had faced my fear and lived to write about it. I could do this!
I had conquered a life-long, silly fear. I was a warrior! I thanked Vicki and left feeling pretty good about myself, complete with a new-found bounce in my step.
Now if the stem cell transplant could only be so easy¡
But despite all of the drugs, pokes, sticks, and tests I have been forced to endure, one thing I had yet to do was learn to give myself an injection¡ªand the thought had always petrified me!
Let me back up a bit.
I have been taking Revlimid (lenalidomide) orally for over four years. Ever since I developed a pulmonary embolism (blood clot) in my lungs during my first summer taking Revlimid,Houston-based Quicksilver Resources said Friday it had reached pipeline deals I have also been taking oral blood thinners.
When it comes time to get a bone marrow biopsy or other surgical procedure, however, it requires switching my blood thinner from warfarin (Coumadin) pills to subcutaneous injections of heparin (Fragmin).
No big deal. The nurse lifts up my shirt, squeezes some belly fat between her thumb and forefinger, and does her thing. Sure, it stings a bit going in. But the needle is small, and the experience isn't much worse than a blood draw.
Fast forward to the present. I have a bone marrow biopsy scheduled for next Monday. That means I need to discontinue my warfarin and start heparin injections once a day until after the procedure¡ªor so I thought.
Turns out I will also need these once¨Ca-day injections throughout my upcoming stem cell transplant process, until my own stem cells are producing a safe level of red and white blood cells.
In other words, I need injections for at least 45 days.Use bluray burner to burn video to BD DVD on blu ray burner disc. At that point, I may be allowed to discontinue taking blood thinners altogether, unless I resume Revlimid maintenance 90 days following my transplant.
A shot a day for 45 days? The words inconvenient and a waste of time come to mind.
The most efficient way to get this done is for me to start giving myself the shots.
No big deal, right? Diabetics do it every day.
I have been taking Velcade (bortezomibbuy landscape oil paintings online.), both the intravenous and subcutaneous versions, but my nurses have always kindly administered both.
But giving myself shots? Heck, I still look away when the nurse starts an IV or gives me a shot! And I had never administered an injection to someone else, let alone myself.
But in the end, common sense ruled the day.we supply all kinds of oil painting reproduction, It was time to suck-it-up and learn how to do this.
So on Tuesday, a smiling nurse namIn addition to hydraulics fittings and Aion Kinah,ed Vicki patiently explained how to use the pre-filled and packaged syringes.
I had to admit, the needle was pretty small. "It's like throwing a dart," she kept repeating. "Hold the syringe at a 45 degree angle and simply throw the dart¡ªusing your wrist¡ªthen slowly press the solution in."
The pressure! After three aborted attempts, we were both laughing so hard I went ahead and poked the needle in. I'm not sure if I used Vicki's "dart throwing" technique or not. But I didn't even feel the needle go in. I nervously laughed some more as I squeezed the fluid slowly into my belly. It did sting quite a bit.
But who cares! I did it! I had faced my fear and lived to write about it. I could do this!
I had conquered a life-long, silly fear. I was a warrior! I thanked Vicki and left feeling pretty good about myself, complete with a new-found bounce in my step.
Now if the stem cell transplant could only be so easy¡
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