A rush of blood from the head
I dread injection day. I'm midway through the third week of my steroid cycle: Sundays are for boldenone, Wednesdays are for testosterone cypionate. Today's injection, 2ccs (400mg) of test cyp, did not go well.
I had my best friend inject me the first two times. I couldn't have found the inner strength to jab my ass with a sharp needle myself, and he was on (prescribed) testosterone, so he knew what he was doing. But I think he injected my stuff too fast, or maybe it was just my body reacting to the steroids for the first time; I had big knots in my butt, where the fluid sat in the muscle, slowly dissipating, and even visible bruises that I wasn't exactly eager to display in the locker room. For a while, I was sure that my second injection, in the left glute, had turned into an abscess, since I still had a slightly painful knob there over a week later. I even had to do the next two consecutive shots into my right glute, because my left just hadn't healed enough.
But at least I was able to do the next three injections on my own, and they went well. There wasn't really any pain since I injected s - l - o - w - l - y, and no more bruises. It is still a completely freaky sensation. I can't say I'm afraid of needles, or the sight of my own blood, but I always turn my head when I'm having blood drawn at the doctor's office. My first time, I had to take a few deep breaths first before I was able to push the needle into my butt. The pain wasn't bad, sort of like a mosquito bite, but the actual injection, the squeezing of the oil into the muscle, made me just the slightest bit queasy. My forehead got damp with sweat. I leaned my head against the wall while squeezing, squeezing, squeezing the hypodermic steadily until all the liquid had been injected. This took probably around two minutes, but it felt like ten.
Today's injection, into the right glute, started out fine. I had been doing my injections at night so that I could crawl right into bed afterward, but I was awake uncharacteristically early this morning. My ex was still in his bed, asleep, so I thought this would be the perfect opportunity. He knows what I'm doing, but I don't particularly want him to see me do it. I get everything ready, wash my hands, swab down all the appropriate surfaces with alcohol, fill the syringe, stand naked in front of the bathroom mirror, and jab it in. Even less pain than before. I start squeezing the hypodermic's plunger, which hardly seems to move. I glance back and see that it hasn't, in fact, moved at all. A firmer squeeze. I feel the liquid enter the muscle and that familiar sensation of not-quite-pain-but-please-make-it-stop returns. Squeeze. I glance back again and the plunger has barely moved. Jeez, nearly two whole milliliters to go. This is going to take some time. Now I'm really dreading the increased dosage I'll be facing in a week or two, when I go up to three milliliters. Keep squeezing. Steady, steady pressure.
My ex's alarm clock goes off. Shit. Squeeze. I don't care if he sees me, but I'd really like to get this over now. Halfway done. He's out of bed now, dressed in his gym clothes, and standing outside the open bathroom door. "Uh, I'm sorry you had to see this," I mutter. "I'm almost done." And I am. The plunger stops moving. All finished. Has this injection really lasted five minutes?
I pull the needle swiftly out, but something is different this time. I don't know if it's something I did, or if I'm just freaked out to have someone see me do it, but I'm really sweating and I'm not feeling steady on my feet any more. I just need to get back to my bedroom so I can lay down. I'm blacking out now as I start to take the few steps. The needle is still in my right hand, my left is grasping for something to hold onto. I'm almost there. "Are you okay?" "I'll be fine as soon as I can lie down." Blackness. Crash. When I come to, I find myself sprawled on the hard wooden floor of my room, the needle still in my hand. My head hurts, my knee hurts and this can't be good.
My ex, standing next to me, calls my name. "You hit your head; you're bleeding!" I start to push up onto all fours. I try to remain calm. "Can you bring me some cotton?" He grabs one of my alcohol-soaked swabs and I press it to my left temple and throw myself onto the bed. There. Much better. Breathe. It's just two tiny cuts, but there is a fair amount of blood. My knee is only slightly scraped. The worst, really, is a bruise on the ball of my left foot; it's a very small injury that causes more pain that one would think, and I feel it with every step. The fall could have been so much worse. I could have hit my head on any number of hard, cruel surfaces. And I could have done some serious damage with the sharp needle that remained in my hand the whole time.
In a minute or two, I'm feeling a lot better, so I go into the kitchen to drink some water and eat something. I get dressed for the gym, then lie down on the couch for a few minutes to collect myself. I ask myself, "Is it worth it?" I don't know.
An hour later, I'm midway through my workout. A guy comes over. I've seen him there a few times, now. "What happened to your head?" "Nothing, really, I just banged it a bit." He asks me my name, we shake hands. "You're really cute," he says, and heads back to his weights. I don't know why, but my eyes start to mist. I shake my head and whisper to myself, out loud, "Fuck."
Weight: 170.5
I had my best friend inject me the first two times. I couldn't have found the inner strength to jab my ass with a sharp needle myself, and he was on (prescribed) testosterone, so he knew what he was doing. But I think he injected my stuff too fast, or maybe it was just my body reacting to the steroids for the first time; I had big knots in my butt, where the fluid sat in the muscle, slowly dissipating, and even visible bruises that I wasn't exactly eager to display in the locker room. For a while, I was sure that my second injection, in the left glute, had turned into an abscess, since I still had a slightly painful knob there over a week later. I even had to do the next two consecutive shots into my right glute, because my left just hadn't healed enough.
But at least I was able to do the next three injections on my own, and they went well. There wasn't really any pain since I injected s - l - o - w - l - y, and no more bruises. It is still a completely freaky sensation. I can't say I'm afraid of needles, or the sight of my own blood, but I always turn my head when I'm having blood drawn at the doctor's office. My first time, I had to take a few deep breaths first before I was able to push the needle into my butt. The pain wasn't bad, sort of like a mosquito bite, but the actual injection, the squeezing of the oil into the muscle, made me just the slightest bit queasy. My forehead got damp with sweat. I leaned my head against the wall while squeezing, squeezing, squeezing the hypodermic steadily until all the liquid had been injected. This took probably around two minutes, but it felt like ten.
Today's injection, into the right glute, started out fine. I had been doing my injections at night so that I could crawl right into bed afterward, but I was awake uncharacteristically early this morning. My ex was still in his bed, asleep, so I thought this would be the perfect opportunity. He knows what I'm doing, but I don't particularly want him to see me do it. I get everything ready, wash my hands, swab down all the appropriate surfaces with alcohol, fill the syringe, stand naked in front of the bathroom mirror, and jab it in. Even less pain than before. I start squeezing the hypodermic's plunger, which hardly seems to move. I glance back and see that it hasn't, in fact, moved at all. A firmer squeeze. I feel the liquid enter the muscle and that familiar sensation of not-quite-pain-but-please-make-it-stop returns. Squeeze. I glance back again and the plunger has barely moved. Jeez, nearly two whole milliliters to go. This is going to take some time. Now I'm really dreading the increased dosage I'll be facing in a week or two, when I go up to three milliliters. Keep squeezing. Steady, steady pressure.
My ex's alarm clock goes off. Shit. Squeeze. I don't care if he sees me, but I'd really like to get this over now. Halfway done. He's out of bed now, dressed in his gym clothes, and standing outside the open bathroom door. "Uh, I'm sorry you had to see this," I mutter. "I'm almost done." And I am. The plunger stops moving. All finished. Has this injection really lasted five minutes?
I pull the needle swiftly out, but something is different this time. I don't know if it's something I did, or if I'm just freaked out to have someone see me do it, but I'm really sweating and I'm not feeling steady on my feet any more. I just need to get back to my bedroom so I can lay down. I'm blacking out now as I start to take the few steps. The needle is still in my right hand, my left is grasping for something to hold onto. I'm almost there. "Are you okay?" "I'll be fine as soon as I can lie down." Blackness. Crash. When I come to, I find myself sprawled on the hard wooden floor of my room, the needle still in my hand. My head hurts, my knee hurts and this can't be good.
My ex, standing next to me, calls my name. "You hit your head; you're bleeding!" I start to push up onto all fours. I try to remain calm. "Can you bring me some cotton?" He grabs one of my alcohol-soaked swabs and I press it to my left temple and throw myself onto the bed. There. Much better. Breathe. It's just two tiny cuts, but there is a fair amount of blood. My knee is only slightly scraped. The worst, really, is a bruise on the ball of my left foot; it's a very small injury that causes more pain that one would think, and I feel it with every step. The fall could have been so much worse. I could have hit my head on any number of hard, cruel surfaces. And I could have done some serious damage with the sharp needle that remained in my hand the whole time.
In a minute or two, I'm feeling a lot better, so I go into the kitchen to drink some water and eat something. I get dressed for the gym, then lie down on the couch for a few minutes to collect myself. I ask myself, "Is it worth it?" I don't know.
An hour later, I'm midway through my workout. A guy comes over. I've seen him there a few times, now. "What happened to your head?" "Nothing, really, I just banged it a bit." He asks me my name, we shake hands. "You're really cute," he says, and heads back to his weights. I don't know why, but my eyes start to mist. I shake my head and whisper to myself, out loud, "Fuck."
Weight: 170.5
posted by M. at 11:22 AM
2 Comments:
It almost makes a little pain in the ass worth another kind of the pain in the ass later... or so we can hope.
Be careful.
The lump typically comes from injecting too quickly...easy as she goes...just started a second cycle myself...lost everything I gained after the first cycle because I got a wicked case of tendonitis and couldn't lift for weeks at a time...I sent you an email....we should compare notes.
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