Lupron Shot Number One: Right Cheek, Wrong Attitude

🌼 Date: Monday, June 15, 2026

⚡ Energy: Nervous but handled it

❤️‍🩹 Status: First Lupron shot complete

🤨 Outlook: My ovaries have officially received their eviction notice

Today I went in for my first Lupron shot.

This is the estrogen-blocking shot I will get once a month for now, because apparently my body needed another chapter in the What Fresh Hell Is This, Breast Cancer Edition series.

This one is part of the hormone blocker plan.

The goal is to shut down the estrogen production because my breast cancer was estrogen-positive, which means estrogen was basically feeding the little asshole.

So now we are cutting off the food supply.

No snacks.

No buffet.

No estrogen drive-thru.

Cancer cells are not welcome at this restaurant.

Now, I kind of thought I already knew the answer to my first question, but I figured I would ask anyway.

“Um, where will you be giving me the shot?”

And the answer was exactly what I expected.

My butt.

Super fun.

Nothing says cancer survivorship like walking into an appointment and knowing your cheek is about to be medically assaulted.

After answering a few of the nurse’s questions, it was time to bare it and share it.

Then BAM.

Right cheek.

I sit more on my left side when I am in my recliner at home, so I asked if they could please do the shot on the right side.

Because if my butt muscle is going to be sore for a few days, I would at least like to protect my preferred recliner cheek.

These are the important medical decisions nobody prepares you for.

The nurse said I should expect muscle soreness, bruising, and general discomfort for a few days.

Ya think?

The size of that needle was huge.

Huge.

Even Casey’s eyes got big when the nurse opened the case holding the pre-done shot.

Not helping, baby.

You are supposed to be my calm, supportive, emotionally stable medical appointment husband.

Not the guy silently confirming with his face that the needle looks like it belongs in a horse.

I saw your eyes.

Do not think I did not see your eyes.

That is not the energy we need while someone is injecting burning liquid into my butt muscle.

But I took it like a trooper.

Like I always do.

Like I have a choice.

I have a pretty high pain tolerance.

It takes a lot to really get to me.

I have been through surgery, drains, expanders, chemo, Granix shots, radiation, deflation, fills, lymphedema, neuropathy, and more needle pokes than I can count.

So when I say this one burned a bit going in, please understand that I am not being dramatic.

Well.

Not only dramatic.

It burned.

And yes, if anyone saw me leaving the building rubbing my butt, please mind your business.

I was not being weird.

I was following medical instructions.

The nurse told me to move it around and keep the medication from staying in one place, so technically the exit butt-rub was part of the treatment plan.

Do not judge me.

I am a patient.

A patient with a sore right cheek and a questionable amount of dignity left.

This is one of those appointments that feels small and big at the same time.

Small because it was “just” a shot.

Big because it marks the start of the next part of treatment.

Chemo is done.

Radiation is done.

Surgery is behind me.

But cancer recovery is apparently not done asking for my participation.

Now we are entering the hormone blocker era.

The medically induced menopause era.

The “let’s see what fresh side effects we can collect” era.

The “please let this help keep the cancer from coming back” era.

And that is the part I am trying to hold onto.

I know why we are doing this.

I know the goal.

I know the science makes sense.

I know this is part of protecting my future.

But I am also allowed to say this sucks.

Because it does.

It sucks to walk into another appointment.

It sucks to add another treatment.

It sucks to prepare for side effects while I am still dealing with the ones that never packed their bags and left.

It sucks to have my body tossed into another medical adjustment when I am still trying to figure out the last one.

But I did it.

Shot number one is done.

My ovaries have been formally served.

The right cheek has taken one for the team.

Casey survived the needle sighting.

And I left the building rubbing my butt like a woman with no shame and very clear nurse instructions.

So there it is.

Lupron has officially entered the chat.

Tiny Tina’s hormone blocker era has begun.

Please send patience, ginger ale, and maybe a tiny ice pack for my ass.

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💗 Tina –
One Badass Day at a Time