(Little T playing peek-a-boo. He loves playing under the sheets)

I had to start taking Clexane Saturday night.  I sat on the bed, it was 2am.  I couldn't bring myself to do it.  The needle was way to sharp.  Thankfully it wasn't huge, and it was only 40mg, but it couldn't get my head around doing it.

I asked G if he'd help me.  He'd just got home after a 12hour day with his cousins at the races and drinking at Darling Habour.  I knew he was dead tired.  I stood holding the needle.  'Can you help me?' I asked.  'I can't do it.'

He smiled, 'I don't think I'm too drunk.'  We both laughed.  I didn't care, I couldn't do it myself anyway.

G went through the checklist making sure I got the air out of the needle etc.  G pinched the skin on my stomach and in the needle went.

Ouch. Oh. It hurt.  I couldn't look.  It hurt so much.  oh.

Then G says, 'are you sure you got the air out?'

I look stunned.  'I'm confident I did,' I tell him.

I hope I don't die in my sleep if there was air in there, what will happen!?  G said go and google it.

As it went in to my tissue I'm fine, the problem is if it's in a vein.  From the study I hear G snore loudly.  The cat runs to the study.  I smile.  I should be fine.  But G is going to have to do this each night