"IN MY HIP!?!"
Evidently, it does not matter if I am 6 years old or 25 years old- I still throw fits at the doctor's office. Generally speaking, I avoid going to doctors like one might avoid contracting the plague. Unfortunately, a welt (that I initially thought was a 'skeeter bite, then chigger bites, then spreading poison ivy) formed into an intolerable rash that spread from my ankle, up my leg, across my knee and stopped at the inside of my lower thigh. I could hardly focus at work because of the itching and burning. I popped some anti-histamine, spread some cream on it, and reached for the phone. It was time to make the phone call of death.
"Heritage Medical, may I help you?"
"Uh, yeah. I need to make an appointment to *cough* come in and *clear throat* see someone about a *cough cough* rash."
So I went after work. As I expected, regardless of my form-filling expediency, I still waited an hour and a half to see the nurse practioner. She concurred that the rash was related to the bite, but didn't know what type of six- or eight-legged critter bit me.
"Continue with the anti-histamines, use this prescription cream, and I will give you some steroids to help fight the infection. Do you want pills or a shot?"
(Thinking to myself what crazy person opts for shots???) "What will be more effective and quicker?"
"Ideally, the shot, but it is up to you."
*SIGH* "Give me the shot, then. Please." (You have to throw in the please, even if you don't really mean it... especially about the needle).
So the nurse practioner left and the RN came in a while later with her shot. I spent the ten minutes I had to myself preparing myself for the shot. I have had countless vaccines in my life, even had my childhood vaccinations twice (thank you very much, military hospitals). "You got this, Elizabeth! It is just a prick in the arm, and I bet you could convince the nurse to give you a lollipop afterward."
The nurse walked in with the syringe, filled with a white, cream-looking substance.
"Alright, these are never pleasant, but this one has to go in your hip."
"IN MY HIP?!?" What is she? Crazy? Are you kidding me? "Why?"
"There is more muscle there."
Clearly she can't see my hips because that ain't muscle. So I untucked my uniform and exposed some of my hip. I will give the nurse credit. She pinched me really hard before she stabbed me, so the stabbing didn't feel as bad as the pinching. It is a good thing there is so much to pinch on my hip. She made the standard "now that wasn't so bad, was it?" remark that nursing school must train its students to say. Thanks for the purple band-aid, may I leave?
Upon leaving, I realized how small the building was and quite possible how loud I had been. The nurse's teenage soon was in the waiting room, waiting on his mom. He most likely heard me yell my startled inquiry. It never fails. I just looked into the sunset, walked out of the building, and pretended like I wasn't the last (and only) patient in the building.
I am monitoring the bite. If it gets worse, I am to go back. I hope it gets better.