That right there?
That’s about two weeks worth of IVF drugs.
It’s also equivalent to our entire health insurance deductible.
And despite there being a few bottles of what look like pills thrown in for good measure, 90% of what you see there is allllll needles.
Thankfully, I was cured of my decades-long fear of needles about six months ago, when I got to start regularly giving myself shots. But those were the easy take-off-the-wrapping-and-shoot kind, I just had to open, shoot, and throw away. But some of these new badboys are a little more complicated than that.
Some you have to mix yourself, and then inject a precise amount, even though they give you more than you need.
Some have to be refrigerated and some don’t. Some you reuse until it’s gone, and some you use and then throw away the extras.
Some you take at night, and some you take in the morning. And one you take at night, the first time, but then in the morning every other time.
Some you take on certain days, but not until someone calls you and tells you it’s ok to take it.
And one has to be taken exactly 36 hours before the egg retrieval — so if they’re busy that day, and you’re scheduled for a 3 p.m. surgery, you have to wake up and take it at 3 a.m. a day and a half before.
Most of them I get to give to myself in my flabby (read: virtually painless!) stomach, but others Mike has to give me.
Why? Because they have to be in a muscle.
In my butt.
Which is why we got to go to an Injection Class yesterday — where I was (naturally) teacher’s pet, since I’ve already been giving myself shots, and Mike was clearly the most skilled of all the husbands/partners. The nurse even offered to draw a circle on my butt when the time comes so Mike knows where to aim. I’m sure we’d be ok without it — but of course I’m going to let her, because who wouldn’t want a nurse to draw a bullseye on their butt cheek? I know I do.