No. It’s more like a bruised wasteland.

I’m a walking pincushion. Every night I get a few shots in the ole’ tookus. And they’re not little baby shots either — they’re hormones in oil, so they’re thick and gross, so that’s pleasant.

Then every morning I get to give myself injections of blood thinner in my stomach, which wouldn’t be so bad (aside from the burning. Oh, it burns!) but my stomach was already covered in bruises — a nice little souvenir from my car accident three weeks ago.

And then there’s the side effects of all the hormones. Pimples! I think my chest might explode! Hot flashes!

Oh, and the hematologist just doubled my dosage of blood thinner, so until I get a new prescription, I get to try to find two non-bruised spots on my body for some more injections every day.

Thankfully, Mike is an excellent nurse. He does a great job giving me my shots at night, and today when I ran out of non-bruised stomach, he gladly gave me a shot square in the love-handle.

I never thought I’d be so happy to have love-handles.