The bruise encircles a pinprick on my thigh, the site of yesterday’s injection. I must have screwed up, placed the auto-inject pen at a slight angle instead of going straight in. Plus, yesterday was my left thigh’s turn to get lucky, and it’s a crapshoot how things turn out then.
To give myself the injection, I need to ‘pull up’ (ugh) some adipose tissue (say it, FAT) to receive the needle. The tops of my thighs don’t have quite enough to perform this task with ease. The upside of not being in the best shape of my life is there’s more of the aforesaid adipose tissue on my abdomen, and at least four out of six injections end up there.
My husband discovered my injection chart the other day. I had taken a picture of my abdomen with my Photo Booth, and every six weeks I mark a circle of dots around the belly so I can keep track of where I prick myself and when. He said he was a bit shocked because you just don’t expect someone to have a picture of their belly laying around. True. However, this whole RA (rheumatoid arthritis) business has changed things up in my life, to be sure.
Like every two weeks I stick myself. They say not to inject in the same place twice, to avoid veins, to avoid scars, to avoid moles. I try. I’ve been doing this for about 1 1/2 years now, and I suspect I’m now making my own scar tissue. As there’s no cure for RA, I imagine I’ll be continuing my injections for the duration. Or until they stop working, or start hurting me.
I’m grateful for the medicines that make it possible for me to live a “normal” life. I can walk with ease, usually. My elbows are only a little cocked. Although some aches persist, I can’t say I’m in pain. I’m especially happy that I don’t have to inject every freaking day, as I’d have to if I was diabetic. Life is good.
An occasional bruise is a small price to pay.
lanasingstheblues 