The eye of the needle

This weekend, I started using Follistim as part of my ongoing infertility treatment. It's the next logical step in my therapy, but I can't say I was thrilled with the idea of jamming a needle into my thigh (or belly fat - I am spoiled for choice here). My favorite phlebotomist, D, ran me through the steps at my last appointment ("Oh, it's easy. You just put it in, dial to this number like this, and zap!"). The drug is administered using an epi-pen, which can be dialed to the correct dosage advised by your friendly fertility specialist. My doctor keeps telling me I'm a "cheap date," so I didn't need much, and I got her assurance that the sample pack she gifted me with would be sufficient to do the job.

Unfortunately, Dr. H was mistaken, and today I'm 50 units short of my dosage. Fortunately, I administer my dosage at the same time each evening at her behest, so I was able to call in, have her phone in my scrip, and pick it up at the nearby pharmacy, which specializes in obscure fertility drugs. My insurance doesn't cover these drugs (surprise!), so they put me on some kind of discount program that (according to them) saves me 30%. Booby checked last night online and the MSRP was a little bit shy of $1,200. My price today? A mere $412 and change. Now that's value! An added bonus is that this pharmacy also carries some of my favorite nostalgia food: Peggy Lawton cookies in Butter Crunch flavor. I paid sixty cents to be gastronomically transported back to my parochial high school cafeteria, which is also a pretty good value, considering my lack of a Way-Back Machine.

Oh, and for anyone who's curious, the needle in the epi-pen is long(ish), but not painful. I had to remove myself from the company of my squeamish husband in order to get the job done, because in his presence I was saying things like, "Wow, this needle is a lot bigger than I thought," and waching the light glint off the tip. Once by myself in the bathroom, I had no trouble sticking a hunk of metal (in truth, the needle is really very fine) into my thigh (the belly just seemed too ... vulnerable), and felt next to nothing. It was slightly more painful coming out, but completely manageable.

One more shot to go, and then I reward myself. Or perhaps I just won't mentally castigate myself for buying, among other things, a pair of glittery slippers from Old Navy on Friday for a pittance of $5.99 on sale (I got mine in blue, though).