Pass me a drumstick

Ok, it's night four of the hormone injections.  I can't really say how they are going; I don't feel any different.  It's funny because the first couple of nights I would sit really still after giving myself the shot.  I tried to focus on whether I could feel it working.  Finally, I laughed at myself and thought, "Damn Amanda, this ain't heroin!"  I guess I've watched one too many "Interventions" on A&E...

Although they don't really hurt, they DO leave big horrible bruises on my stomach.  I didn't realize this fact until last night when Tom asked me whether the thing on my stomach was a large black bruise or random patch of hair.  This question actually extremely insensitive seeing as I am still a little freaked out about pumping so many hormones into my body.  There for a minute, I actually considered the possibility that I had what is tantamount to an herb-garden growing out of my stomach.   Thank God it was just a bruise. Phew, that was a close one.

So far, I have given myself the first two injections while Tom did the honors the last couple of nights.  This brings me to funny story #1 in our active quest for a baby.  Last night, I went out to dinner with Ashton and Allison (our semi-monthly girls' dinner).  On my way home, I called and asked Tom to prepare the medication for me before I arrived.  The process is this:  You must load the new needle, dial up your dose, pinch the fat on your belly, clean it with an alcohol swab, and then do the injection.  I arrived home to find the follitism pen prep'd and ready to go, resting on my bedside table next to an alcohol pad.

Now rewind to last week: We were out in Louisville (before we started this bland-ass diet) and stopped at BD's Mongolian Grill to eat.  I'm not proud of it, but some of my father's odd OCD habits rubbed off on me growing up.  I tend to hoard weird things like condiments and plastic utensils.  So, when I spotted a bowl full of moist towelettes at BD's, I grabbed two handfuls and stuffed them in my purse.  I mean, let's face it, I'm a bit of a klutz and you can never really have enough moist towelettes.  They are really handy.  Unfortunately, a few of them fell out of my purse when we got home (unbeknownst to me).   Tom was nice enough to pick them up and sit them on my bedside table.   I'm sure you can see where this is going.

Back to last night.  I grabbed a little packet and laid down so Tom could give me the shot.  As I ripped open the alcohol pad, I couldn't figure out why I had an instant craving for KFC.  I figured it was due to the good-country-cooking deficient nature of this new diet.  However, laying there after the injection, I got to looking at the packet in my hand.  It read "Fingerbowl."  I thought to myself, that is a really weird name for an alcohol pad / medical supply company.  Then I looked a little closer and realized I had sterilized my skin with a moist towelette from BD's.  Like I said, I couldn't make this crap up.

And I'm still craving KFC damnit.