As a child each year brought stress and terror as I wondered if I was going to get a booster of one form or another prior to starting the school year. My mom kept this information a secret because I only became more of a little whiny shit if I knew a booster was due. She learned the mystery was a little easier to manage. My pediatrician, Dr. Dennis, had cold hands and his shots hurt, really. Ok maybe I was just a little whiny shit but it still hurt. Sniff* Sniff* This continued until I was able to have my mom administer my shots. She is an RN and she has the technique down to a science. She has the touch indeed. In her office many patients request her specifically if a needle is called for. This time I didn't have that option. I am in Texas and she is back in NY. Before I get ahead of myself I should also mention the height of my needle-deedle-dum-in the bum (or arm) phobia.
I think I was around 9 or 10 when Dr. Dennis informed me that my annual bought with tonsillitis was coming to an end. He was going to take them out. Huh? Right here? Right now? In the office? No you whiny little shit you are going to the hospital. OK, cool I thought. My mom used to work in the hospital and my god-mother was still there. I didn't understand surgery but at least it wasn't a shot. My parents checked me in and I was placed into a room with 3 other kids. I brought my jammies and a few comic books and settled in to the big hospital bed. My folks said good bye and I was then alone with my new roommates.
After my diagnosis I learned that I was going to be asleep for the operation and although my throat would be sore it should be relatively painless. That was until the nurses came in to draw blood...with a needle. She started on the opposite side of the room and the first two boys took it very well. Ok, maybe this wasn't going to be so bad I thought to myself. I also had the added pressure of an audience to contend with. When I went mental and spastic in Dr. Dennis' office only my mom and the doctor were present. Mom pinned me down and the Doc did the deed. Here I was alone and scared, but since the first two boys didn't even flinch I figured maybe taking blood out would not hurt, shots pushed stuff in after all. I can do this. Only the boy next to me was left for the blood letting so I closed my eyes and prepared myself.The next thing I heard was a scream of terror and the nurse calling for help. I opened my eyes and the boy next to me was in a full on rage. A few additional nurses came in to restrain him while his blood was drawn. That was all I needed to see and hear, it was now time to check out. I leapt from my bed to the floor and headed down the hall to make my escape. A nine year old in a hospital gown with an open back wasn't going to get very far so I changed plans and decided to hide out instead. I found a bathroom and locked the door. In hindsight perhaps not the best plan.
Eventually the staff tracked me down and they tried to coax me out. No way I was coming out. They tried to kill the boy next to me and I wasn't going to let those vampires get at my arms. The door was finally opened and with the help of a few extra nurses they stole my blood. I say stole because if you take something without permission it's stealing right? Besides I came in to get my tonsils out, why did they need my blood, couldn't they just get it during the operation? At least I would be knocked out. Anyhow since my mom worked in the hospital my antics made it back to my parents within minutes of my attempted escape and subsequent fugitive status and then finally my capture. I guess she took some ribbing but what's a whiny little shit to do?
There's the history and I hadn't thought about it in a long time until this week. In order to get back into the US after I go to Brazil I needed a battery of shots last week. My co-worker found a local drive through clinic that did this with no appointment. My stomach knotted and I was suddenly a little boy again. The PrimaCare clinic in Dallas is staffed by very nice people and I knew I couldn't lock myself in any bathrooms this time around. I called my mom and asked her to come to Texas and do my shots, nope. Ugh! I think it's the waiting the makes it the worse and add to that I am being accompanied by a new co-worker who really doesn't need to see me like this.Clipboards and forms were handed out and I meekly took them to my seat as my stomach did a spin and palms dripped sweat. As I was filling out my forms my co-worker noticed that there was a line item in the history section that noted "Cries Easily". Ok, half true, half as goof, I circled it and turned in my completed forms to the nurse. She reviewed the forms and began to laugh real hard. Apparently I was first person who had ever circled that line. She looked up at my sad eyes and knew that maybe there was some truth in the joke.
She said it would be ok and that they would be nice and
gentle with me. I was then weighed, my blood pressure taken, and then
finally led to the poking room. Now normally I am all for poking but
this wasn't the kind I wanted. I was touched by how nice the nurse was
when it came time to get the needle, then another, then another. Man,
couldn't they ,mix them together and give just one, an inoculation cocktail
if you will.
I held a curled up magazine and the nurse did her best but the sheer volume of venom being shot into my little stick arms was making me tear. I didn't cry but damn it I came close. The nurse placed a hodge-podge of band aids on me and sent me on my way. Here it is 3 days later and I still ache.
I guess some people just feel things more than other people. In their hearts and in my bodies. When I love or care for someone I can't do enough for them. My friends and family know this and I guess the staff at PrimaCare do too. There is no shame in having feelings or a big heart. It might be embarrassing sometimes, especially in Texas where the men where belt buckles that weigh more than me, but in the long run you can't go wrong. We are all human to pretend you are not cheats you and everyone else.
Another one of my new co-workers pointed out to me that if everyone was nice to each other in the world you wouldn't know it or appreciate it. She said in her homeland goodness is only seen and recognized because there is evil to measure it against. It has taken me almost a week to digest that nugget but I think I understand it now. Life is created and guided by forces I will never understand and while I wish people were better to each other I have no control over that formula. I can choose to be a positive influence and life will provide the balance or opposite forces. Without the ying there is no yang. Without death there is no life. Without evil there is no goodness. I think I understand what she was saying now, life is a balance. I hope you choose to balance the bad by being good. Feel, share and love without boundaries. That's my plan, and I am sticking to it.
Sean