On occasion, I run across an errant piece of my trying to conceive days. Usually, it throws me into a bit of a tailspin downward - remembering how I was hopeful, the pain of loss and the rampant mood swings. Ahhh... those were the days. Today, not so much, thank goodness, though it did make me wonder why I don't clean out the cabinet more often.
While looking for some antihistimines for hubby's allergies (which I never found), I ran across several half-used prescriptions (most of which had expired months ago), some multi-vitamins that expired in 2009, cough drops that were oozing out of their wrappers, some spray for my old dog's sore leg that was dated 2005, and cat treats that I think have petrified.
And, amid the Tums, Tylenol, Fish Oil and dog ear cleaner, at the very back of the cabinet, I found two syringes, seven injection pen caps, 17 gauze pads (why do we need 3"x3" gauze pads for pin-prick sized injection spots?), 24 alcohol wipes (which I will keep), and the package insert for my Gonal Pen, which I must've read a dozen times based on is crinkled state. At the time, I was obsessed with what wacky side effects I might get, and I did end up hyperstimulating, so it was with good reason that I was so familiar with the information. I think I am going to toss it in the grill while I cook my tilapia tonight.
Almost any time I clean something out - linen closet or bathroom drawers, I run across one of my old "friends." At what point do these crappy reminders cease from being in my house? I guess I should do a top to bottom cleaning and rid my home of infertility paraphenalia. Of course, the likelihood of that is slim to none, so I guess I'll just have to deal with the consequences the next time.
Luckily for me, I have a nice glass of savignon blanc to get me through the tossing of the syringes and pen toppers -- too bad I don't have my little red biohazard container anymore.