Nothing like shootin' up at a Roy Rodgers.
Yes, there still is one left.
Today's our travel day and at 8:30pm we magically hit the Mass border. While the hubby jumps out to take a pee, I begin shooting up in the parkinglot in front of two school bus loads in the back of my Lexus. I'm a advocate for real-life adventures--and they just got one one embryo at a time.
And because it seems I always F so
Something up, tonight was Menopur. After mixing the vile I am ready to withdraw it in my giant needle that I am ready to stick myself with in order to avoid the double stick, only to have 1/3 leak out all over my hand. Secretly hoping it absorbs through my dermis, I don't wipe it. It's a bit sticky should anyone else care. So I gear up for the second vile and this time use the 50 u needles--the one that requires two sticks. Boo.
The end results: five puncture wounds (I barely broke skin the second time and needed a repeat) and six mosquito bites. We get back on the road swatting the buggers that made it inside as we randomly itch our exposed limbs and a curse at the thought of one on my toe.
I did pack bug spray.
I did pack hydrocortisone.
I did forget to pee.