I stared at the television set, but my mind wasn’t really there. My mind was in that room down the hall, where she was. It was also trying to figure out why I was here again though I really did not want to be
Just before my mind wandered too far, I heard the sound of her footsteps. She was here!
I had forgotten how small the room was, the bed too. The bed seemed to have shrunk since the last time, but I knew it would suffice. I also knew that I was analysing the size of the room and the bed to keep myself from thinking about what I was about to do, or more accurately, what she was about to do to me.
Like the last time, I was a bit reluctant and she wasn’t making it any easier. She just stood there smiling, she didn’t say a word, but I could clearly hear her eyes saying “you are not a child, we both know what we are here for, play your part and we will both be out of here soon”. She waiting for me to make the first move and it was too late to chicken out.
I turned around and unbuttoned my jeans. Then she moved. In one deft move, she pulled down my boxer shorts and gave me the injection.
‘See you tomorrow’ she said.
‘Tomorrow’ I replied, glad that it was over.
If you are like me, you can probably relate to this story (and I am not talking about all the possibilities that popped into your head while you were reading it…lol). For me, there is usually a slight variation; I call it the 4 stages of injection grief:
Stage 1 – Lies: I tell the Doctor “I really don’t have problem with taking injections, I am just concerned about having to come here everyday…the distance…the traffic. I feel I might not be consistent, maybe you should just give me tablets.
Stage 2 – Mental flight: I start thinking of how I can run away. One time I was told to alert the nurses that I had injections and then get some tablets from the hospital pharmacy, I walked past the nurses’ station to the pharmacy and got my tablets. I was already on my way out when one nurse said “I thought they said you would take injection”. Why couldn’t she just mind her business?
Stage 3 – Macho confessions: I remind myself about how I am a man and men are strong fearless, but it never works
Stage 4 – Selection: By now, I know I will embarrass myself in front of a nurse so I pray to get an older nurse. In my experience, they are more forgiving.
If you have had more success with avoiding injections, I would love to hear from you. Cheers!