Picture this: It’s 5:40AM. I’m fast asleep in bed, finally settled for a little bit after being up throughout the night. Cody gives my hip a little tap and says “Good morning. It’s ready.”
It’s not what you think. But it is how it started.
I rub some sleep out of my eyes and stagger over to the en suite bathroom (thank God it’s on my side of the bed). I plop down on the (closed) toilet and lift the corner of my shirt. A little swab of alcohol and before you know it: there’s a needle in my stomach.
That early in the morning, I’m a baby. I literally whimper “Owwww” and frown (with my eyes closed – I’m not waking up fully at that hour). Today, the needle hurt going in (it is usually painless and unnoticeable). Then the meds started to flow in and, like I mentioned before, they burn. So there were a few pathetic “Owwww” whimpers this morning. Cody pulled the needle out and then swabbed the injection site again. I was up and back in bed in about a total of 2 minutes.
As I laid in bed, Cody cleaned up the torture chamber. He came to the bed and covered me up again and bent to kiss me goodbye. I turned my head and the conversation went something like this:
B: “I don’t like you.”
C: “I know you don’t like me. I love you, though.”
B: “No you don’t. You just like stabbing me in the stomach.”
C: “No! I hate doing that to you.”
C: “Tell you what. You can hold the baby first.”
I love him so much.