I got my flu shot yesterday. There were tears.
I don’t do well with needles.
From where I was sitting, the pharmacist did a stellar job, though the parents did say I had him a little worried.
I do okay until they start prepping my arm. I start falling apart rather rapidly at that point. Yesterday was worse than usual. He swabbed my arm with alcohol. I put my head in my free hand and suppressed a sob. He stuck the needle in me and I dropped a few tears. He administered the vaccine and I had to close my eyes and concentrate on not throwing up in his lap. Then he put the band aid on me. I was done, and I was fine. I wiped away my tears, popped out of the chair and smiled. Another year done.
When I was a small thing my doctor had bright blue band aids with snoopy on them. I always got one when I had any short of shot done. After smoothing on the band aid the nurse would smile (probably in relief–I’ve never done well with needles) and remind me to take snoopy for a ride around the block. I would then obediently pump my arm back and forth and up and down in a distressed, small child’s approximation of a circle. This was intended to dispel soreness and any lingering pain.
It became something more for me. It was the lull at the end of the battle, the sign that I had successfully navigated another needle. These days I take snoopy for a ride as much to pat myself on the back for being awesome as to avoid later soreness. I was taking snoopy for a ride periodically throughout the day yesterday and I got some pretty weird looks, but probably they were just jealous of my awesomeness.