A poke in the arm

So, yesterday, we had appointments at the pediatrician to get our flu shots. Our office offers them to parents as well as children, so I was thrilled to be included. (Claire’s is free with our insurance. My hubby got his for free at work, so paying a small fee to have mine done with Claire was worth it!) They were doing a flu-shot clinic where you RSVP for a specific time-slot, and then they move you through the line. Last year, it was a pretty simple procedure. I wasn’t sure how things would go this year, since Claire is exponentially more mobile than she was the last time.

When I went to get Claire out of her crib that morning, she had started her daily commentary. She was babbling to me about what she saw outside and what Puppy was doing, and how Daddy was at work, and I asked her about her dreams, like I do every morning. Then, I said, “Guess where we get to go today! We get to go to the doctor’s, and he’s going to give you a flu shot. He’s going to give you a shot in the arm. And, it will feel like a poke!” as I lightly pinched her upper arm. “Momma’s going to get a flu shot too, and she’s going to get a poke in the arm, just like Claire!”

“The doctor’s gonna poke my arm!” she said excitedly. “The doctor’s gonna poke Momma’s arm!” Obviously she didn’t understand that there could be pain involved with a poke in the arm, but I let her run with it. Any chance to go bye-bye is very exciting in our house, and I was hoping to use that excitement to my advantage. The last thing I needed was a 22-month old who didn’t want to get her flu shot.

All morning, I would hear about her baby, her new step stool, and Kitty and Monkey, and what the kitties are doing and how Daddy’s at work! Oh, and the doctor’s gonna poke my arm! The doctor’s gonna poke Momma’s arm! We’re goin’ bye-bye. The doctor’s gonna poke my arm!

She went down for her nap, and as soon as she was up, she started in again about how the doctor was going to poke us both in the arm. Who knew this would be so exciting?

All the way to the pediatrician’s office, I heard, “Look at the cars! Oh, that’s a big truck. We’re goin’ bye bye! The doctor’s gonna poke my arm! The doctor’s gonna poke Momma’s arm! Hey, Momma! I see you in mirror! Momma’s in mirror! Claire’s in mirror! The doctor’s gonna poke my arm.” Needless to say, we had a very lively conversation the whole way there.

There was a short line at the doctor’s office, and she was anxious to go see the doctor. I tried to explain to her that the nurse would be the one giving the shot, but she was way too excited to understand.

“Fishies! I wanna see the fishies!” Why they put the fish tank on the “sick child” side of the waiting room, I’ll never know. I guess sick kids need them more? I tried to keep from having a germ-infested-waiting-room-induced panic attack as she ran all over the waiting room while I was filling out the paperwork. Luckily, I was pretty mobile with the clipboard they gave me, so that I could keep an eye on her. Only once did I have to retrieve her, and that was when she headed down the hallway with one of the little chairs. “I’m gonna go see the doctor! He’s gonna poke my arm!” she yelled as she pushed the chair through the doorway.

“We’ll get to see the nurse soon, sweetie. Let Momma finish this paperwork and then we can!” I couldn’t believe my child was begging to get her shots. We were quite entertaining for the receptionists. They certainly don’t see this every day.

Then, it was time to go wait in the line…again. We followed the signs around the corners of the hallway and tried to patiently wait our turn. “The doctor’s gonna poke my arm!” she told a little girl waiting in line in front of us. That little girl looked at her mom with the “They’re going to do what to me!?” look on her face, and the other mother smiled at me. “Oh yes. We’re really excited about getting our flu shots,” I said. What else could I do?

The woman behind us commented that it felt like we were in line at the Haunted House, with all the “turn here” signs and “go this way” arrows, and all the screaming and crying coming from the rooms up ahead. None of it fazed Claire. “The doctor’s gonna poke my arm! The doctor’s gonna poke Momma’s arm!” Her excitement was nearly as contagious as the toys over by the fishies in the waiting room.

Then, it was our turn. The nurse called, “Next!” and Claire dragged me into the room. “Hurry, Momma! Hurry! The doctor’s gonna poke my arm!”

I got my shot first, and I must have tensed up, because it really hurt! And, all day my arm hurt all the way down to my fingertips. It’s even tender today! Needles don’t bother me in the least, but I was afraid Claire would wiggle off my lap and we would drop Puppy, and the nurse said, “Ok, relax your arm,” as she poked me in the arm. Uh, thanks for the warning. Not quite relaxed yet, thanks.

Then it was Claire’s turn. It took three seconds, and she didn’t even make a peep! She was all smiles and even thanked the nurse. The nurse gave her a big yellow smiley face sticker. As we gathered our things and started walking toward the door, Claire was clutching her newest prized possession and says, “The doctor poke’d my arm! The doctor poke’d Momma’s arm! I gotta sticker!!”

And, I have a feeling we’ll be talking about this for days to come…