Peyton and I went to MTN KP last Friday after school. There was one person in line before us. I asked her if she wanted me to go first or her. She volun-told me to go first. I went first, and it went into my right arm. No biggie. She went next. She offered her left arm, even though she told me that it would affect her catching a ball, since that was her catching arm. Now, she was getting a weekend off from softball, so it was the perfect time. Let’s not count the 5 hours of basketball practice she had between Friday night and Sunday evening. She was about to laugh when the nurse brought the needle to her arm, causing her to pull it back. She let Peyton settle down, and then approached her again. She was successful, and Peyton did great!
We went to pick Brandon up, as he told me that there was no basketball practice. And this was when the madness began. He normally doesn’t like talking to her. But when we were heading down the freeway, he suddenly asked where we were going. Peyton told him, and then he asked me to confirm. His voice was a bit shaky. He asked Peyton if it hurt. She said, “You got one last year, you don’t remember?” He insisted she tell him if it hurt. She said it was like a little pinch. Then, she proceeded to tell him, “There was a long needle.” Keep in mind, she was watching MY needle and NOT her own, which I believe was shorter. He started to get very nervous. “What do you mean a long needle?” Peyton continued, “It goes ALL. THE. WAY. IN.” Brandon was nervously laughing, “What?” Peyton, “Yup, and they hold it in for like 2 minutes until all the juice goes in.” Brandon, “TWO MINUTES!?”
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Peyton and I waited in the short all comers line, whereas there was a line downstairs now that we were there almost at closing time. We went up to pediatrics, but it was more formal there. We registered and were given a sheet of paper to complete. We waited in the waiting area and watched as scheduled patients came and left. Every time the door was opened, Brandon expectantly looked up, like he was awaiting his calling to be a tribute in Hunger Games! Each time it wasn’t him, he’d take another deep breath. Meanwhile PEyton was watching Mickey Mouse clubhouse cartoons on the tv in the waiting room. Finally, after an agonizing 10-15 minutes, Brandon was called back. The nurse took us back to a small room. She asked each of us to sit in a chair. Brandon sat closest to her, and there was a small giraffe push toy next to him. It was a toddler toy. She asked him to verify his birthdate and name. He did so, then started to try to psych himself up to receive the shot. The nurse noticed him bristling and teased, “Are you a baby? You’re a big baby, huh?” in her thick Filipina accent. She reassured him while he was taking deep breaths and looking away. He looked far away and jumped when she applied the cold alcohol swab. It was another agonizing moment before the needle went in. She was swift and deliberate before announcing, “All done!” I tried to ask him if he needed a sticker, but he bolted out of the room. We went along our way, and both kids had practice that night. We were all a bit sore, but I used it to my advantage, as neither messed with me this weekend, as I knew what arms each of them had been injected and neither wanted me to touch their arms. Peyton did get a little banged up at practice, even though she told her teammates her arm was a bit sore. She told me she was walking around like she’d broken her arm. She’s never broken her arm, so I’m not sure how she would know that, but she kept her arm straight just after having it poked. Happy to report we’re all back to normal now!