I’ve always been open to people watching me prick my finger, give myself a shot, or inject an infusion set. And it never fails that when someone watches for the first time, I get the same question:
Does it hurt?
I used to say no. At the beginning, I would say no or just a little. I didn’t want people to know that I flinched from the pain so I would say the loud pop of putting in an infusion set was why I jumped. Though I was welcoming it, I already had people gawking at me shoving a needle in my body, I didn’t want to seem weak.
Eventually, when it seemed like enough time had passed, I changed my answer to a shrug and saying that you get used to it. But imagine that. I have to put a needle in myself often enough that it no longer hurts? That’s horrible. I’m so used to feeling the needle intrude my skin that the pain no longer exists?
That phase lasted a while, but I eventually moved on to say that I get used to it hurting. Finally, on the path to truth and honesty. And this isn’t wrong. You do get used to the fact that you have to do things multiple times a day and it hurts. You get used to the hurt. You get used to feeling the pain of it. While this is true, it’s dismissive.
I’ve finally gotten to a point in my journey where I’m brutally honest in my answer: Yes, it hurts. Every time. Honestly, there are times I want to look back at the person and say, “Well does it hurt when you have a needle go into your skin at a high velocity?” I try not to. But yes. It hurts. And it’s not a diminishing effect. The pain I felt from my last finger prick, my last infusion set injection, it hurt the same amount as the first time.
So when you see your loved one doing these things, encourage them. Tell them you’re proud. Because can you imagine the strength it takes to willingly inflict pain upon yourself multiple times a day to keep yourself alive? A LOT.
It hurts when my tubing of my pump gets tugged on the kitchen drawer. It hurts when I wake up and have been sleeping right on my infusion set. It hurts when my infusion set gets yanked out. It hurts when my clothes snag the adhesive. It hurts when I hit muscle on an injection. It hurts to give insulin, it burns. Diabetes hurts. It’s not an easy-go-lucky disease. This disease goes after you! You’ve got to buckerup, buttercup because you’ve gotta deal with not liking shots or needles or blood.
Don’t ask if it hurts, of course it hurts. Say how proud you are of their strength. Say how you admire them. Say you love them and wish you could take it from them, say anything, but don’t ask if it hurts.
It always does.
HP