Where's My Shot?
Today I took the kids in for their well child visits.
Mainly only so they could get in to their preschool. A check up is required.
I knew I was behind on Faye's immunizations, but assured Keith he was up to date, and all he would need to do would be to help his sister be brave and strong when she got her shots.
Keith was excited. He loves going to the doctor. He loves watching them in action and then going home and imitating what he sees. It is adorable to watch.
But today was a big day. They got to miss their naps to go to the doctor. I had to talk it up and tell them how fun it would be. We played all morning, shots looming in the back of my mind, worrying how Faye would handle it. I talked up the stickers and treasure chest and how nice our doctor is.
Things were going smoothly.
As we pulled into the parking lot of the clinic Keith gave a little jump in his seat.
"I love this place, Mom! This doctor is my favorite!" he whooped.
I guess I didn't have much to worry about after all. He loves his pediatrician.
I love their pediatrician, too. After much searching and a few disappointing doctors, my brother recommended a friend of his. She had been in his graduating class in med. school and they were good friends, so I thought I would give her a try. She is absolutely wonderful. And my kids adore her, which is a must with a doctor.
They were measured and weighed and we were then sent in to our little room to wait for all of 5 minutes. They are prompt there.
As she talked and Keith sucked in every word, shots for him were mentioned.
His eyes grew wide and watery, he backed up a few steps and his bottom lip began to quiver. She assured him we were just going to visit for a little while and then we would discuss it.
We continued with the checkup.
They are healthy. Yay!
And then, it was time for the shots. We talked to Keith about not needing shots again until he is in junior high. He didn't care. He didn't want shots. We talked about not needing shots next year for kindergarten. He didn't care. I told him I would buy him ice cream with a cherry on top. With tear laden eyes, he slowly nodded and agreed to getting the shots today, while heavily leaning into me.
She finished the visit and then left the room.
Meanwhile, Faye had been running all around, playing, getting into things, and just having fun on her own. It was a very good study for the doctor. She was able to observe her language and activity rather than relying on my answers.
I massaged Keith's legs, getting them ready for the poke.
The nurse came in with the needles. I told him it would just feel like a little pinch, and then he would be over it. He sat on the exam table, looked at the ceiling, and together we counted to 50. But as soon as he was poked, he began to cry. He was poked three times, and the tears began to come faster and harder. After several hugs and assurances, it was Faye's turn.
She eagerly jumped up on the table. Her cute little legs were poking out of her shorts as she tried to pull the pant leg higher so I could massage her leg to prepare it for the shot. The nurse came over, I put my arms around her and we began to recite the abc's.
By the time we got to the letter D, the expression on her face changed. She looked a little surprised, and then it was done. She jumped down, grabbed Cake (her stuffed elephant) and demanded she get a shot as well. The nurse was sweet and pretended to give a shot to the elephant.
And Keith, while all this was going on, was sitting on a bench quietly sobbing.
It took us a good twenty minutes to get Keith calmed down enough to leave the office.
As we were getting into the car, Faye looked very distraught.
"Wait, Mommy!" she exclaimed, "Where's my shot? I didn't get a shot. I want a shot!"
I laughed and had to explain to her that she did indeed get a shot. Three of them, in fact. Her elephant also got a shot.
"Oh, okay. Can I have another one?" She begged.
I asked if she would rather have an ice cream sundae.
Obviously, that was much better than a shot.
Keith, though, had a hard time the rest of the day because of the shot. Even as we tucked him in for the night he was still crying about hurting. Jeffrey asked him what it felt like, and he said it felt like his bones were being crushed. That just broke my heart! The poor boy. If it is still hurting him tomorrow, I am going to call his lovely doctor and find out which shot was put in that leg, and if there is anything we should do about it. In the meantime, Jeffrey didn't want to give him tylenol, so we gave him a placebo vitamin B12.
I don't think it helped him much, though.