Surely she has become desensitized to the act of receiving an injection - it has been nearly 52 after all. Couple that with the required blood work and an emergency hospital stay this year, and she should be beyond freaking out. RIGHT???
Not even close.
Here it is, shot night
A steadfast demand that she take the shot today leads to the pill and she slowly begins to withdraw into herself. Whether we are watching a movie, playing a game, or she is reading a book, you can see the fear in her eyes. The worry about what is coming. Some nights she tries to sneak off to bed without follow-through. This entails a casual heading toward the bathroom and a quick dart to bed. I have caught on to such tricks and head her off which leads to arguments of: the shot doesn't make a difference, burns, makes me sick, and "How can you torture your own child?" slamming into me across the house. I brace myself, hold steady and administer the hated dose of poison that will keep her swelling down and, hopefully, keep the pain at a low throb.
She stands rigidly to receive the shot as tears stand out in her eyes. She flees the scene as soon as the deed is done, throwing herself into bed and cries or worse - writes me well reasoned notes about how I must not believe her and she is disappointed in me.
I counsel myself that it could be so much worse. The illness could be worse, the treatment could be worse. We are all lucky in the scheme of things. But it still sucks...
So, I am allowing her to take a break. I tried to get into the doctor earlier than our August appointment - but he is booked until October. With no other avenue open, Mr Seashore and I have decided she will be okay to go off for a month. I feel weak and unsure, but as Mr said, "It's only a month. She will be fine." The real concern is how will she be if the shots continue...
