Hastings. Sea, sketching, small steady weeks — and one very undignified Thursday in February that I am still carrying around.
First injection. Sitting at the kitchen table, did it fine, no pain, felt rather pleased with myself for about twenty seconds, and then the room went a long way away and I woke up on the floor with the chair on its side and my cat looking at me from the doorway with real disdain.
I rang the out-of-hours line and they were very calm and asked good questions and concluded that I had fainted, which people do, and that it was almost certainly nothing to do with the medicine itself and a great deal to do with a needle and an empty stomach and standing up too fast. My GP agreed at the follow-up. Nobody was worried. I did have a bruise on my hip for a fortnight.
Since then I have done it three more times, sitting on the floor with my back against the radiator, which works and which I have not told anybody about because it looks so strange. And every Thursday now has a shadow on it from about lunchtime. I am not frightened of fainting exactly — I am frightened of the moment before, that swimmy feeling, and the not knowing whether it is coming.
I would like to know if anybody has come out the other side of this, and whether the shadow on the day goes. Also whether the floor is a permanent arrangement or something I will grow out of.
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