Alas, it was shot day! Nervously I bounced Elias on my knee in the waiting room until a stout “man” nurse pushed open the door and grunted, “Elias.” As I walked toward the man, I realized this was no ordinary nurse. This man should have been a linebacker in the NFL.
Although this “man” nurse was young, he shaved his head completely bald, I think to add to his intimidation factor. His neck was thick, and his ripped arms were bulging out from underneath his Green Bay Packer scrubs. When he spoke, his voice perfectly matched his build. His words were deep and as scary as Mufasa’s voice off of Lion King.
Timidly I followed two steps behind the man, very thankful that my 6’3 husband was right behind me. As we took our seats in the doctor’s office, I wanted to ask the “man” nurse, “Um… sir… will you be giving the shots today?” I could just imagine that deep voice telling my son to “sit still” while he reaches for the large needle. His powerful arm would…would probably….I couldn’t go there.
As my imagination ran wild, I nearly went into a full fledged panic. I thought about grabbing Elias and trying to make a break for it out the window since the “man” nurse sat in front of the door. However, when I imagined Mark grabbing my feet as I dangled out the window I knew I needed a new plan.
I thought about screaming at the top of my lungs and then while everybody panicked for a brief moment, I would rush past them and out the door with my sweet baby. As much as I wanted to do that, I decided to try the patient calm route instead.
I began to answer questions like, “Does Elias have any allergies?” and “Has your family history changed?” I wanted to be sarcastic and rattle off a ton of problems my family had had in the past three months to delay the “shots”, but I simply smiled and said “no.”
Soon the questions stopped, and to my relief the “man” nurse left. After a little while, the doctor came in and did a customary checkup and told us “a different nurse will be right in with the shots.” Thank goodness! That “man” nurse was scary.
As we waited, we began to hear loud crying. Every few minutes a new wailing cry would arise from down the hall. Some were newborn cries, some were babies, and still more were small children. They seemed to be getting closer to us. One poor child sounded like a screaming monkey, poor thing! Let me just say this is not comforting when my child is next in line.
The cries kept getting closer and closer, but still no one would come into our room. It sounded like every child in Knoxville was there for shots. The doctor’s office now served as a torture chamber. As tears leaked from children’s eyes, wild fits ensued. All we could do was sit and listen. At one point Mark said “Let’s just go.” With all of my heart I wanted to dart out of that room with him, but just as quickly as he had said that he changed his mind. He probably saw the glimmer of hope in my eyes.
Alas, a nurse came! Two shots were given, and Elias joined the rest of the kids on the hall and bawled his eyes out. Scooping him into my arms, he complained for quite a long time while he rested his head on my shoulder. I can’t blame him; if somebody gave me a shot in the thigh I’d probably do more than complain.
Even after I had prepared myself for shot day, the emotions that spring from my eyes were shocking. Thankfully I hid it better than last time, but I have got to quit crying at the doctor’s office!
Elias is in the 95% of height. He is really growing into his daddy’s shoes.