My Child on Genotropin

Two shots down. Tuesday, say one,  was pretty dramatic.  I picked Natasha up from school and she cried for most of the 10 minute ride home. Miles was waiting for us when we got there, and Natasha continued to cry increasingly hysterically the entire time he was there.I concentrated admirably under the circumstances, all things considered.  At that point I was feeling more businesslike that emotional, actually. Miles was required by Pfizer to read a script, and then I (in true therapist style) mirrored what he said in my own words, rendering the instructions more understandable. All of this led up to the actual injection, during which N tensed her muscles so much it was a lot harder than necessary. But we got it done.  Yesterday was day 2. The “starter kit” with the Sharps disposable needle container, extra needles, alcohol swabs,  handy dandy travel case, and various information was still on the table from the night before. Miles had commented on how many extra needles they had sent us, so while trying to figure out where to put all this stuff I spontaneously decided that, if I was going to be reassuring Natasha that this was all no big deal, I ought to have a clue what I was talking about. So I opened up one of the needles and stuck it in my leg (no meds attached). I literally did not feel a thing, and I’m no big macho shot-getter. That definitely made a difference last night for shot two. I told Natasha what I had done and asked her to please, please try and relax, be cool, not make such a big deal about it. She put an ice pack on for a minute, took it off and I did the dirty deed. She actually laughed afterwards, asking incredulously whether “that was it?” Okay, she said, I admit I was really wimpy last night because that wasn’t bad at all.Sigh of relief. Maybe this actually will become not all that different from brushing teeth–just another part of our kind of nonexistent bedtime ritual. We remembered to measure her, too. Now I have to start sending out good thoughts and hopes into the universe that this whole Genotropin experiment is actually going to work.  

I spent a lot of time doing yard work today and dealing with my ego. Last night I surfed the internet more extensively than before– and I thought I’d done a pretty extensive search– and finally found some message boards for parents of children on Genotropin.
 
Wow. Parents talking about things like six month old children who aren’t growing at all but are too young for treatment. Lots of scary stuff. Made me so very grateful that our issue is, in the realm of issues, so very, very small (ha ha. Get it? Small? Growth hormone? )
I realized that it is kind of absurd, my rushing to start a blog as if no one has ever gone through this before. I imagine there are some out there. But damn, they are hard to find.

So here it is: the blog of the experiences of a family whose older daughter is in a not terribly dire situation which is nonetheless serious enough to merit injected hormone treatment.

Tomorrow the starter pack is slated to arrive, at which point I call back insurance to go over a checklist. Theirs, not mine.