The Shot

I was just reading my sister Jill's blog about her daughter freaking out at the clinic when she was there to get a shot. FUNNY! Well, maybe not at that exact time. But it sure seems funny to me now...

And it reminded me a funny story of myself as a kid at the mature age of about 10. During my childhood in the 1970's and early 80's, it must have been fairly common to inject antibiotics in any kid who appeared to have a cold. (And we wonder why we have so many resistant strains of bugs out there now!!!)

Anyway, our small town doctor especially loved it. He would always give us a choice between taking 10 days worth of pink-tinged oral antibiotics or a single shot in the butt. I always wanted the sweet pink medicine, but mom usually opted for the shot. Something about "being easier" I think.

Yeah, right.

I developed quite a hatred/fear of needles back in those days. But I was able to deal fairly well with it for the most part. Until that memorable day in 1980. My dad just so happened to be in the hospital for something and I just so happened to have another cold. The clinic was located on the first floor of the building, while the inpatient beds were located on the second floor.

After hearing that my cold symptoms were just too severe for merely the oral pink medicine. The doctor told me a needed a shot. I started crying right then and there.

Yep, I was 10.

To console me, the nurse asked if I would rather have the shot done upstairs in my dad's hospital room. To which I quickly responded "YES." At least I knew the terrible poke would be delayed by a couple minutes while we gathered her supplies and we all trekked through the clinic and up the stairs to the hospital.

On the way there, as I was trying to contain my sobs, I was plotting a way to escape the pain. And I came up with a brilliant idea.

At least I thought it was at the time.

So, imagine the scene...here is this big, crying 10 year old kid lying across her dad's hospital bed. (God, I bet my parents were totally irritated with me right about then...) And just as the nurse is about the stick my rear end with the shot, I squeezed my butt cheeks together as tight as I possibly could. And hoped for the best.

The only thing I remember after the little "yelp" from the nurse was turning around and looking at her perfectly white, starched uniform was covered in sprinkles of blood and yellow medicine that must have shot back at her off my tightened gluteus maximus.

I have no memory of anything after that. But...I'm sure I got the shot. And I'm sure I got quite the lecture from my mom and dad. I can just about imagine what I would say if that was one of my kids acting like such a fool...

So, believe it or not, I'm a nurse these days. And I can honestly say that every single time I've ever given a shot in my entire career...this incident crosses my mind.

I wonder if that poor nurse remembers me?

God, I hope not.