Getting shot.

Having a stranger stick a needle in your body and inject an unknown fluid doesn’t sound very fun right? It even more menacing, especially, at the part where the nurse taps the needle to make sure their aren’t any air bubbles…

Did you think I meant getting shot? As in with a bullet? Haha, silly. Xp

Anyways, the biggest fear for a healthy child of going to the doctors is getting shots.

But for me, it was a different story. When I was a child, I didn’t really mind getting shots. I didn’t cry or anything. I thought of it as just one second of pain and then it’ll disappear. No, I’m not trying to act tough or anything, I was just very…indifferent towards it.

One time when I was very young, barely old enough to attend school, (Don’t ask me how I remember this, I just do) I went to the doctors to get my yearly shot. I thought okay, just another shot. After a nurse poked a hole in my shoulder, I didn’t need to cry or anything but I thought, wait, these people expect me to cry, since I’m so little and all.

So I cried, even though I didn’t need to because it didn’t really hurt that much. This doesn’t really have to do too much with getting shots, but isn’t that strange? To cry just because people expect me to?

After I came back from the doctors a few days ago, my older sister asked me, “Why do some shots hurt more than others. I mean, it’s the same type of needle right?”

I only shrugged and said, “I dunno.”

“Or…” Her fingers mimicked the action of a needle inserting itself in her right shoulder and her eyes widened in realization. “Is it the poison they put in you?”

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s