I Didn’t Kill My Husband
23 Oct
I didn’t kill my husband. Let me just get that out there. David is alive. And so am I. For that we are truly thankful.
I was only sick for two days. David will finish his antibiotics, but the rheumy’s office said that if he felt okay, he could take his regularly scheduled Humira.
Things got pretty ugly last night. David gave himself his third Humira injection. You may recall the first injection occurred at the rheumatologist’s office. The nurse helped David give it to himself. The second one was two weeks ago at home, and it took him about an hour to do it. We were screaming at each other.
Last night was no different. Well, it only took forty-five minutes this time. David is really disturbed by self inflicted pain. He thinks it’s unnatural to give yourself a shot. In my mind, we inflict pain on ourselves all the time for the greater good. I mean, I don’t like the chiropractor snapping my neck, but I feel great for days afterwards. And David’s in so much pain with his arthritis, what’s the big deal with a little shot?
David had an awful experience as a child. He was sitting on the table in the exam room. His mother was with him. The nurse comes in, grabs the syringe and jabs it into David. Overhand. Hard. I think that’s probably the reason why he doesn’t like shots. I try to remember that when he’s freaking out, but I just don’t get it. Needles just aren’t a big deal to me. I’m having a hard time feeling sympathetic.
I’ve offered to give him the shot. He’s refused. I will say this. It’s not a normal syringe.
You put the injection against your skin
and then push a button which shoots the needle into your body. You hold it still for a few seconds while the medication is being injected. And the Humira burns really bad going in.
Last night, when David finally gave himself the shot, he pulled the injection away too soon. Half of the Humira sprayed all over David and his office. The medicine worth more than gold. I so angry! The cost of one injection is $750.
So the plan is that every other Thursday when David needs a shot, we’ll go to my parents’ house, and one of them will give David the injection. And so my parents prevented me from receiving lethal injection.
My mother gave herself shots when she had gestational diabetes with Brother #3. My father is a paramedic who can start an IV on a screaming infant in the back of an ambulance doing sixty miles an hour. If David can’t trust them, well, I guess he’ll just have to go to the doctor’s office every two weeks.
I’ve read where the auto pen type are more uncomfortable than a regular shot needle (like some diabetics use). I have no idea if that’s true (yet) but bet your mom is a pro at giving shots. How fortunate to have her and your dad on stand-by!
Yes, we’re very blessed to have such great family.