After yesterday afternoon’s pilot episode of “Beth gets shot” I was expecting to have an epic tale of medical adventure to tell. Alas dear reader, all went well. On the ride over I broke the news… she was starting allergy shots. As expected, it went over like a helium filled cement truck (it might be a little lighter on its feet but it still don’t fly). I nipped the near hysteria in the bud with a barrage of facts, logic and anecdotes.
“It’s the smallest needle I’ve ever seen.”
“They don’t have to find a vein or anything.”
“The back of your arm isn’t really sensitive, is it?”
“Smaller needle + shallow entry + relatively low sensitivity = less pain.”
“Far and away the best shot I’ve ever had.”
Beth didn’t ask any questions. We walked in, signed in, and waited. We were called back for our shots, Beth whimpered a little, and they stuck her. There was no hysterics. There were no restraints involved. We didn’t have to chase her down in the parking lot.
Piece of cake.