Hello there much neglected blog!
How have you been? Good I hope?
No? You’re super busy, super stressed, and in general should be referred to as Debbie Downer?
So yes…here I am catching up on several weeks worth of personal emails, volunteer obligations, and blogging. All because work has been INSANE, I’ve been dealing with a super sprained ankle (and more than a little down about it if I may be so honest), and yes….NOW WOULD REALLY BE A GOOD TIME FOR SOMEONE TO GO TO STAPLES AND PURCHASE ME THAT DAMN EASY BUTTON.
I finally was able to start Orencia about a month ago. I’ve had two doses thus far and they weren’t as scary as I thought they would be.
You see, I’ve blogged about the fact that I was nervous about infusion therapy because I’ve always felt that “only sick people get infusions” and I just didn’t consider myself that sick. What I haven’t really blogged about: I am extremely claustrophobic and the idea of having to sit in a chair for an hour and feeling like I COULDN’T GET UP AND GET OUT OF THERE because I had a needle in my arm was even scarier for me.
I’ve been claustrophobic since I was little. I prefer to sit on the ends of aisles next to doors. If there’s heavy traffic on the highway and I know I’ll be stuck between exits, I take side roads. Some people are scared of flying because they might crash; I sometimes have a hard time flying simply because I’m stuck on that plane and I can’t leave. My claustrophobia is emotional too…but that’s a whole different blog. Suffice to say, I despise situations where I feel stuck in all senses of the word.
Anyways…I stressed and moaned and cried over the idea of the first infusion for days. A little because of the actual infusion but more so because being stuck to a chair for an hour and having no option of getting up and wandering around was pure torture to me. The night before my infusion…the doctor called and cancelled it because the infusion nurse called out sick. SERIOUSLY? I’m going to get all worked up and then you’re going to cancel it? I was mad but also tremendously relieved. Aaaaaannnnndddd….I’d already arranged for the day off the next day so I stayed up way too late drinking way too much wine, basking in dodging what I considered to be a serious bullet.
I woke up at 930 the next morning when doctor’s office called to tell me that the infusion nurse was there and that they needed me there by 10. In a sleepy, slightly hungover daze, I showered and jumped in the car. By the time I realized that I was indeed stuck in a chair getting an infusion, it was almost already done! I kinda laughed about it- the needle didn’t hurt, it didn’t make me feel awful, and let’s be honest- from my activities the night before, I really NEEDED that bag of saline they gave me.
The thing I’d stressed and cried about…ended up being just fine. Did I mention what happens with my claustrophobia when I go through with what scares and it doesn’t kill me? It ceases to be an issue.
Moral: (not safe for kids) If it terrifies you, it’s not necessarily always bad to do it with a hangover.