My nurse had explained that the hospital refer to the day of the first injection as ‘Week 0′ because, of course, Week 1 is not complete until the seventh day after the interferon has been inside my system.
As the Big Day arrived, I felt very even in my mood but aware and apprehensive that I was about to have injected into my system some very powerful pharmaceuticals with a veritable catalogue of potential side-effects. At the same time I was looking forward to the medicine which will begin to protect my liver from the continual viral attack and give that organ an opportunity to begin to heal itself.
My appointment was 3 pm. Beforehand, Carol and I met up with my son Ben and his partner Sofia for lunch. I felt they were all being very considerate and ‘making a fuss’ over me – and I was letting them! None of us knew what dreadful state I could be in within a few hours. We had all read and heard the warnings about the flu-like symptoms which can come with the interferon. I think we all had reflected and remembered that when we have had the flu we can feel very miserable and ill.
All four of us went to the hospital together – I think Mynurse* was surprised to see a posse of us show up for my appointment. (*I have decided to call her Mynurse as she seemed ambivalent about being mentioned by name when I told her I was doing this weblog.)
I knew that I have to attend hospital for the first few weeks until I can learn to do the injections myself. Mynurse told me the interferon would be injected in a different site each week – left abdominal area, then right side, before going on to left thigh area then right thigh. So when she asked if I was ready for the injection I lifted my t-shirt for her. I was completely shocked when she said – “you’re doing the injection today, not me”.
Carol told me later my face went visibly white at this point. I have always hated needles. It isn’t a phobia but an intense dislike, which I have had for as long as I can remember. I cope with blood tests or inoculations by looking the other way and pretending it isn’t really happening by chatting on about something else, anything else.
It may have been a shorter time, but I was sure I spent the next ten minutes trying to wheedle my way out of doing the injection. Mynurse was resolute and met each prevarication about ‘not being ready to do this’ patiently and logically. She showed me the procedure of checking the meds are correct and labelled with my name, ensuring the expiry date hasn’t passed, washing my hands thoroughly, assembling the syringe, checking there are no air bubbles, setting the plunger at the right level and making sure a ’sharps’ bin is nearby for disposal afterward.
After we had been through all of this I remember sitting and looking at the syringe and thinking to myself -”you have to do this. It’s what you came for and you know you can’t go through treatment without doing this, Ron. You have to face this sometime and now is as good a time as later.”
I heard myself commenting it was warm in this room here and Mynurse agreed and suggested we find another, cooler room. A few minutes reprieve, I thought to myself while Mynurse was probably thinking this patient might faint or something.
In the new room, it could be put off no longer and I removed the protective plastic cap covering the business end of the syringe. I was surprised to see a fine needle about 1 centimetre long. That was encouraging. I pinched a bit of flesh on my right stomach area, as I had been shown, and held the syringe like a dart and pushed it into my skin at a 90 degree angle. It didn’t hurt! Remembering the physical sensation, and discomfort, of novocaine being under the skin surface by the dentist, I decided to push the plunger very slowly. That didn’t hurt either. After doing a slow count to 5 as instructed, I removed the needle.
“Well, that was okay – it didn’t hurt like having blood taken” I heard myself say out loud. Mynurse laughed and said of course not – those needles are bigger in diameter and are inserted in your veins. As if I would know!
As we left the hospital and began the journey home everyone was keeping an eye on me – including me! I think I went into a state of heightened awareness as I checked any potential pain or discomfort to see if this was the beginning of the side-effects. I remembered Mynurse had said it could begin 3 – 4 hours after the injection.
My son Phil was the first to make contact to see how I was feeling. OK so far.
When 3 hours had passed we were at home, sitting comfortably and I felt fine. 4 hours came and went and I felt fine. Then time for my first dose of the Ribavirin tablets, complete with their own set of potential side-effects. However, as time passed no side-effects emerged and I felt fine. I went to bed at 10 pm feeling completely exhausted but hopeful for a good night’s sleep before the side-effects appeared.