Are you afraid of needles? Well, so am I. Not so much afraid of the needles themselves, but more of the pain they inflict when they’re stabbed into your skin.
Yes, I am a wuss when it comes to anything sharp and prickly. Especially when what’s being injected happens to have it’s own painful effect.
So, it may surprise all of you, including myself, to hear that I had 31 needles of Botox injected into my forehead, head, neck and shoulders today. I’m still in a state of ‘WTF just happened?!’
When I left the house today to go to my second appointment with my neurologist, I knew we would discuss the possibility of Botox, since she had mentioned in my first appointment that I was eligible early due to the severity and consistency of my migraines. So, I had planned to tell her that yes, I would very much be interested and discussing Botox further, as I would sick of using so many medications to stabilise my condition.
I walked into her office and told her how my migraines and headaches have both improved on the medications, but that I was still somewhat afflicted. She told me that I was sweet, and she could see that I’m smiling through it, but that my answers were pointing towards too much of a problem, that it was her job to do better.
Let’s all just take a second to thank whatever god we all believe in that there are doctors with as much compassion and empathy as her in this world. She restored my hope, that’s for sure. She had no intention to give up on me or my unexplained pain.
But, what she said next had my palms sweating instantly. “Well, you came on a good day, I can do the Botox right now if you like.”
The look on my face told her exactly what I was feeling. “You’re not good with needles are you?” No Doctor, I most certainly am not. That being said, I’ve had enough blood tests in the past 2 years to not even blink when I get them done… But 31 needles into my head is a whole other kettle of fish.
My response surprised both of us. “I have this gut feeling that I should just man up and do it right now before I change my mind.”
So, she didn’t waste any time in getting the injections ready while I laid down on the table, holding a little purple stress ball in the shape of a brain, to help me relax (and prevent me from passing the fuck out!)
Then began the torture. One needle at a time, each a different degree of pain, each making me stress more than the last – all while my doctor tried to make jokes to calm me down. She didn’t do too bad either I must say. She had me giggling through the pain, and told me I’d done the best she’s seen so far, not one swear word left my mouth!
I left the office with my head feeling like it was on fire. ‘Stingy’, which is how she described it, is an understatement. Knowing that in 12 weeks I will have to do it all over again, and again, and again, and may not notice a difference until the second of third treatment (lord help me.)
I also happen to have a very delayed response when it comes to the whole ‘passing out’ thing. So I felt like I was in another world and like I would fall down any second as I started the very long and torturous one and a half hour train ride home. On a 40 degree day I might add.
I felt very sore and sorry for myself by the end of that day. I felt emotionally exhausted. Another painful treatment, another $300, another doctors visit that I went through alone with no one to hold my hand other than a purple brain for a stress ball and the stranger that is my doctor (no matter how lovely she is.)
I feel like a test subject on any given day, still waiting for answers and having no idea what is causing these painful and debilitating symptoms. Enduring judgement and unsolicited advice left, right, and center. Everyone telling me what’s best for my health and trying to make important life decisions for me. Losing friends because I simply can’t do what I used to, and some people can’t understand that. Looking healthy, but feeling broken.
Thirty-one needles – a treatment for chronic migraines but a symbol for the ongoing painful treatments for a condition that can’t be explained, and the isolation that comes with that.