Walking a day in my shoes

I am bleary eyed and wasted this morning. I only got 3 hours of sleep last night. I think it was because my medication had run out. My appointment for my meds was last Thursday and we had all those medical things going on with my father and I had to reschedule. I tossed and turned and just laid in the bed thinking until 4 AM this morning. I hate nights like that. I felt like I was running out of time and that if I didn’t get to sleep soon my whole day tomorrow would be shot. I watched as the hours and minutes ticked by on my bedside alarm clock.

My risperidone shot was this morning. Thank goodness as I could very much tell the absence of my medication. One of the last things my father said to me as I left his hospital room yesterday was to be sure to go and get my shot in the morning. With all he had going on and not feeling well, he was determined I get to Dr. Kamath’s office and get that injection.

I was a guinea pig today as I had this new, young nurse. She opened the box and looked at all the miscellaneous pieces. It can look daunting the first time. She sat there and read the instructions for the longest time. I finally spoke up.

“You want me to help you with that?” I asked.

“You know how to do it?” She asked back.

“I have done it countless times.” I replied.

I proceeded to make up the injection and prepare it. She watched as I deftly put everything together.

“You make it look easy.” She said.

“It really is easy after you do it once or twice.” I said.

The hardest part is to bare my ass to a stranger. I am very modest when it comes to exposing myself. I have learned to wear loose fitting pull up athletic shorts to make the process easier. All I have to do is pull down my pants slightly to one side and do not have to do the full moon.

“Big stick!” The young nurse said.

No matter how many times you get this done there is a short moment of anxiety and tension. Sometimes the injection is very painful and other times you barely feel it. I never know how the experience will unfold.

“All done, hon.” She said.

I pulled up my pants, said thanks, and headed back to the reception area to schedule another appointment.

On my drive home, I thought how much this simple act of going every two weeks and getting this shot has changed my life; a change very much for the better. I remembered all of the anti-psychiatry and anti-medication websites I have read and thought, “If you could only walk a few weeks in my shoes.”