There is almost too much to say. Almost.
Monday was day 15, my two-week mark -- and had it not been deemed important that we should all slack off to pay homage to the various and sundry Presidents of this country, and other countries, too, and probably the odd student council president-- then I would have been at the clinic getting my second T shot. As it was, the honor fell to Tuesday.
And it was momentous. The Letter slid into my leg with nary a tear, nor even a sniffle. In fact, I was quite excited by the whole thing, and had a blast with the nurse as she talked me through all the steps once again, and for the first time EVER in my life, I gave myself a shot! The actual putting of the needle into the flesh of my leg gave me pause, but I plunged ahead, so to speak. I put the needle in and removed it rather slowly, and next time I will be a little more decisive, and a little less fascinated. I slid The Letter in very slowly -- hoping to allay some soreness later (pish-posh, I'm still sore) -- and then I applied pressure to the needle-trauma-wound (aka drop of blood) with a gauze and massaged gently. Then on with the bandaid, a cheer from my nurse, who was almost as proud of me as I was, and I was allowed to pull my pants up. I will now execute a deep bow to your thunderous applause.
(See separate post for a technical-but-boring play-by-play of the actual injection process.)
Tuesday was also grand for another reason: my Homoerotic Haircut! I do not jest. (I say homoerotic, since most barbers are men and most barbershop clients are men. Meaning this is an accurate description most of the time.) Haircuts are like fresh starts, they make you feel new again. One might draw the simitiltude that an orgasm does the same. You might say it's a stretch, but my 60-year-old Hispanic barber clipped, snipped, and finished me off with the Warm Shaving Cream Treatment: A smear around my ears, a smudge down my neck; then with a straight-razor laid firmly against my throat, my very life hanging in the balance, he scraped me clean... clean-cut, that is. These are oft' ignored erogenous zones, having fallen by the wayside of a committed relationship. Might I vote for their reinstatement!
And finally, some relief to the south-of-the-equator itching! Not a complete cure yet, but on doctorial advice, switching to a milder soap -- the doc recommended Dove or Ivory, but I have this Pear stuff I use for my face -- the itching has reduced drastically. If all else fails, I will submit to the 1-pill-wonder of yeast infection treatments (vastly better than the over-the-counter alternatives). I also trimmed; hey, anything to make it go away.
And since we are in the equatorial zone, might I say that my early, irregular period has ended early as well. Thank the gods.
My leg is now, two days later, still sore. A heating pad, yesterday, I discovered feels wonderful, but doesn't necessarily make me less sore.
And Tuesday's yoga class, before I became the Two-Day-Gimp, was rather successful. I could hold a Side Plank for about two seconds longer than usual. Am I getting stronger, is it the T, or both?
And I have a stellar graphic to post, since words can be so... wordy, but I can't f*&!ing figure how to do it yet!! So, that'll have to be for another day.