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Friday, October 15, 2004
Belonephobia (Adventures in Parenting... a continuing series)
Belonephobia... evidently it's genetic... but I digress...
Yesterday, T1 and T2 return from a grand adventure in the woods near our house. T2 walks in and loudly proclaims, "Mom, I got cut by some rusty barbed wire. And T2 got cut with something, but he can't remember what. Will we need a shot?" Hmmm... "I'll call the doctor in the morning and find out."
The call goes in to the doctor (great guy- love his staff). The nurse calls back- yeah, they need to get a tetanus shot. Lovely. Hubby calls and offers to meet us at the office. I don't think it's necessary, but ok. I was wrong.
T1 goes first. He's a trooper. He thinks it's funny that he's taller than the nurse practioner. He really shouldn't make fun of women holding needles. But he'll figure that out in time, I'm sure. Stood there nice and straight and took it like a man. Or an 11 year old boy. You know what I mean. All we heard out of him was "Ow!" That's it. Cool.
Then it was T2's turn. From what I could tell, the nurse practioner was going to use a needle the size of a fire hose on him. It had to be that big, based on the way he was acting. I mean, it's just a little shot, right?
We now pause for some background. When I was a kid, I was terrified of needles- I have no idea why. Seemed like a good idea at the time, I guess. I would squirm and fight and try to negotiate my way out of getting a shot. Any shot. Anywhere. They were evil and I wanted nothing to do with them. Yes, I had to be restrained a time or two. Looking back, man, it was embarassing. When I got to college and turned 18, I decided I'd had enough. I went to a blood drive on campus, and they stuck a HUGE needle in my arm and siphoned off a unit. Just to make sure I was really over it, I went back two months later. Then I became a VIP donor the entire time I was in college (that's 4x a year). I still don't like needles, but I no longer cringe in fear, either.
Back to the story. Like I said, it must be genetic, because T2 started fighting and stalling and trying to do everything in his power to get out of that shot. It ended up taking almost 10 minutes AND hubby and I holding him still before he got the shot. And, yeah, all we got out of him then was "ow!"
He does this to varying degrees every time he gets a shot or has blood drawn. The only time he DIDN'T pitch a fit was when he almost ripped off his toenail and we had to go to the ER for the nice doctor to finish the job. He was awesome when they stuck three needles in his toe. But he can't handle it in his arm.
Hey! That's it! Every time he needs an injection, he can ask them to give it to him in his big toe!
Yesterday, T1 and T2 return from a grand adventure in the woods near our house. T2 walks in and loudly proclaims, "Mom, I got cut by some rusty barbed wire. And T2 got cut with something, but he can't remember what. Will we need a shot?" Hmmm... "I'll call the doctor in the morning and find out."
The call goes in to the doctor (great guy- love his staff). The nurse calls back- yeah, they need to get a tetanus shot. Lovely. Hubby calls and offers to meet us at the office. I don't think it's necessary, but ok. I was wrong.
T1 goes first. He's a trooper. He thinks it's funny that he's taller than the nurse practioner. He really shouldn't make fun of women holding needles. But he'll figure that out in time, I'm sure. Stood there nice and straight and took it like a man. Or an 11 year old boy. You know what I mean. All we heard out of him was "Ow!" That's it. Cool.
Then it was T2's turn. From what I could tell, the nurse practioner was going to use a needle the size of a fire hose on him. It had to be that big, based on the way he was acting. I mean, it's just a little shot, right?
We now pause for some background. When I was a kid, I was terrified of needles- I have no idea why. Seemed like a good idea at the time, I guess. I would squirm and fight and try to negotiate my way out of getting a shot. Any shot. Anywhere. They were evil and I wanted nothing to do with them. Yes, I had to be restrained a time or two. Looking back, man, it was embarassing. When I got to college and turned 18, I decided I'd had enough. I went to a blood drive on campus, and they stuck a HUGE needle in my arm and siphoned off a unit. Just to make sure I was really over it, I went back two months later. Then I became a VIP donor the entire time I was in college (that's 4x a year). I still don't like needles, but I no longer cringe in fear, either.
Back to the story. Like I said, it must be genetic, because T2 started fighting and stalling and trying to do everything in his power to get out of that shot. It ended up taking almost 10 minutes AND hubby and I holding him still before he got the shot. And, yeah, all we got out of him then was "ow!"
He does this to varying degrees every time he gets a shot or has blood drawn. The only time he DIDN'T pitch a fit was when he almost ripped off his toenail and we had to go to the ER for the nice doctor to finish the job. He was awesome when they stuck three needles in his toe. But he can't handle it in his arm.
Hey! That's it! Every time he needs an injection, he can ask them to give it to him in his big toe!
