Lupron Shot #2: Right Cheek, Wrong Attitude

Lupron Shot #2: Right Cheek, Wrong Attitude

🌼 Date: Wednesday, July 15, 2026

⚡ Energy: Irritated, sore, and slightly betrayed

❤️‍🩹 Status: Lupron shot number two is done

😞 Outlook: Ice and Tylenol are now part of the friendship circle

Today was Lupron shot number two.

Yay.

Not.

Because last month they administered the shot in my left cheek, this month it went in the right cheek.

You know, just to keep things nice and equal.

We do not want my cheeks fighting each other.

Can you imagine?

Left cheek over there feeling like it did all the work last month while right cheek just sat around unemployed.

Not on my watch.

Equal opportunity trauma.

Today, I got a good look at the needle before the shot was administered, and I asked a couple of questions first.

Because apparently I am that person now.

Not just the patient.

The patient with questions.

The patient who wants to know exactly what fresh hell is being loaded into the syringe before it gets launched into my backside.

And let me tell you, that needle is not here to play.

The needle itself is big enough to pass a grain of rice through because the medication is thick.

A grain.

Of rice.

Through the needle.

That is information I did not need and also absolutely needed.

And the needle is about four inches long.

Four.

Inches.

And yes, the whole thing goes into my ass.

The whole thing.

No wonder my eyes got huge last time, and Casey thought he was going to have to pick them up off the floor.

That was not a dramatic reaction.

That was an appropriate response to seeing a tiny medical spear headed toward my butt cheek.

I thought I was ready this time.

After all, I have had this shot once before.

Basically a professional now.

Lupron veteran.

Seasoned butt-shot survivor.

Wrong.

So wrong.

This nurse gave me the shot so high up it was more like my hip than my cheek, and it was instant pain.

Immediate.

Sharp.

Rude.

Uncalled for.

I actually thought I was going to cry.

And listen, I know some people are afraid of shots.

Some people faint at the sight of needles.

That is not me.

Needles and I have a long history.

After having bloodwork done every eight weeks for the past twenty-plus years, cortisone shots in my hips for psoriatic arthritis, all the blood draws, IVs, chemo access, surgery pokes, lab checks, and every other needle that has come with this cancer adventure, needles and I have basically become coworkers.

Not best friends.

Let’s not get carried away.

But coworkers.

We know each other.

We tolerate each other.

We have an understanding.

Honestly, I would rather give myself the shot at home than drive all the way over there for five minutes so a nurse can shoot me up and send me on my way.

But since this one goes in my butt, apparently I have to obey the rules.

Rude again.

There are so many things about cancer treatment and hormone therapy that make you feel like your body is no longer taking requests.

Shot schedule?

Not mine.

Injection site?

Not mine.

Side effects?

Definitely not mine.

But here we are.

Month two.

Right side done.

Cheeks balanced.

Hormones being bossed around by a medication with a giant needle and a terrible attitude.

I left the appointment rubbing my hip-cheek area, because honestly I am not even sure what body part got attacked today.

I took Tylenol as soon as I got home.

And ice will be my friend for the rest of the day.

Maybe tomorrow too.

We will see how dramatic my right cheek decides to be.

I already know this shot is part of the plan.

I know why we are doing it.

I know shutting down estrogen is important for my treatment.

I know this is one more layer of trying to keep cancer from making a comeback.

But knowing why something matters does not make the needle smaller.

It does not make the shot hurt less.

It does not make the side effects more fun.

It just helps me show up and do the damn thing anyway.

So Lupron shot number two is officially done.

Left cheek last month.

Right cheek this month.

Both cheeks now involved in the cancer prevention committee.

Tiny Tina is sore.

Google MD is probably about to be consulted.

Casey has once again witnessed medical nonsense.

And my butt would like to file a formal complaint.

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