True Story

This is a true story.

Second injection day and I’m running late home from work to do it. Not bad, hey? Twenty four hours in to the whole shebang and I’m already stuffing up the routine. Anyway, thank my tasty toes, I had the mobile injection kit on me.

What’s the mobile kit, I hear you ask? (Go on, ask it. I’m waiting…)

It’s a pencil case with the injection pen, a couple of spare needs, an alcohol swipe, because I’m just so hardcore like that, the hard plastic sharps disposal container and that great big sheet of instructions I showed you a picture of yesterday.

Here it is again – and yes, it is to scale. The thing is like A3 size:


So, anyway. Running late, having to switch trains half way home, there’s a handy public toilet, the mobile kit is in the bag – what else is an IVF Girl to do? I slip in to the train station loos to do the injecting thang.

Now, there are two cubicles in this particular train station loos, one of which is big enough to house a small family from Africa, or two Melbourne girls shooting up.

No, it’s not a fifty-fifty bet as to which it was.

So there I am in the small cubicle trying to balance needles, instructions, and alcohol wipes – because when you’re trying to inject yourself with hormones in a public toilet at a train station, making sure you wipe your skin with a tiny sanitised cloth first – and unable not to hear the conversation in the cubicle next to me. First there was the slapping of skin, then one girl asking the other if she wanted her to inject the needle, then whether or not it stung, then where to dispose of the sharps.

Who knows, maybe the girls were on IVF too. We could have got together, swapped notes, a kind of pre-mothers, maybe-never-but-stay-hopeful-mothers club. How’s the emotional roller-coaster for you? Have you memorised The List yet? You know, that kind of thing.

Or maybe one was just diabetic.

Anyway, diabetes or smack addiction, I do hope the girls were alright. They were gone before I came out, but they sounded young. (Teenage kind of young, not pre-school kind of young.) I didn’t end up seeing them, just managed to do my injecting, pack it all back up, then get back on the train home.

Enough for today, folks.

Kind regards,
The Patient




Published in: on February 17, 2011 at 8:56 pm  Comments (1)  

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  1. […] 5.     True Story […]

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