Heads up: this is part of an ongoing series about my experience with GLP-1 medication. If that’s a triggering topic, please feel free to skip. I’m not telling anyone what to do with their body. I just need to process this, and I figure someone out there is more scared than I am and could use the company. Start at the beginning →

I gave myself my third shot on Monday.

I wasn’t excited to give myself the shot. But after stabbing myself three times with the same needle the first week, and then everything going magically smoothly the second week, I was calm and collected and sure this was going to go well. I gave myself space and room to breathe.

And then I broke three needles trying to get the fucking super soldier serum out of the vial.

Don’t get cocky, kid.

I managed to get it right the fourth time. But now I only have four needles left, so I’ll have to figure out where to get more. Which seems to be difficult, mostly because people are afraid someone will use clean needles to do illicit drugs — and, excuse me, go fuck yourself. Clean needles for everyone. Seriously.

But back to the mutant stuff.

I have been completely avoiding this update because, you know… it’s fine. I don’t know what to say. I’ve had side effects and I didn’t like them. But I’ve also had worse side effects from using the wrong laundry detergent.

For some reason, I have spent a lot of time being very, very, very angry.

Angry about people being denied access to this medication because they can’t pay ridiculous sums of money. My own insurance denied the GLP-1 shot unless I would pay $2k a month. We are already being robbed by the insurance rates we pay for private insurance — because neither of us has a traditional “job” — and now, on top of that, we’re paying for this medication out of pocket.

But do you know the primary effects I’m seeing from this medication? I know it’s for weight loss, but here’s why my doctor prescribed it.

I have chronic severe inflammation and joint pain. I just hurt, literally, all the fucking time. I have high blood pressure. I have high cholesterol. These were all medical problems I had when I was thin, too. They compounded over time and made it impossible for me to keep on keeping on. And then perimenopause hits, and, well. That’s the fucking Tower card 101.And here’s the thing: they know.

The manufacturers know this can be a miracle for people. Reading the warning labels, I found a lot of information about what can get better. The pharmacist specifically warned me that some of my other medications may need to be reduced or stopped, because this improves so much other shit.

All I can think is that they know this is a lifesaving medication — and they’re denying it to the people who need it most.

Which is infuriating.

So I’m on this medication, and the more it helps me, the angrier I get at the treatment this fucking country gives its people.

And to be clear: I was already really, very angry.

P.S. I’m not actually paying $2k a month for this. My doctor and I were able to find an alternate path. But what the fuck. And why the fuck should we have to?

Yes, this is why I’m doing self-injections and prepping them myself instead of using one-shot injectors. But it’s a good skill to have learned. So that’s cool.