Thursday I came down with hives. Really itchy hives. After I reviewed what I’d eaten and examined every bottle of lotion, shampoo, conditioner, soap, detergent and fabric softener and found absolutely nothing had changed, I figured I had to let whatever it was run its course. I got some Benadryl and soldiered through.
By Sunday, I would have gladly taken a cheese grater to my arms and legs.
When I woke up Monday and realized I’d passed the cheese grater stage and moved on to chainsaw, I figured I needed to see someone. So I went to the redi-clinic and was told there was no obvious cause of the rash, but steroids should clear it up. And I had an option: five days of pills or a shot and four days of pills. Did I have any questions?
Yep. Which would work the fastest?
Then bring it on.
The nurse said, “Now, I’m not going to lie. This will burn.”
Definitely not a liar.
The good news is once the medicine from the shot went in I forgot how much the rash itched.
It took six minutes for the deadly stinging pain of the shot to go away. After that, I was left with a dull ache in my hip that will apparently last the rest of my life.
People, I have a very high pain threshold. Very. High. For that shot to affect me that much… I can only imagine how much that would hurt someone else. But I wouldn’t have believed it unless I’d experienced it.
I hope my people don’t need a shot anytime soon. But having that one yesterday reminded me that shots hurt and that I need to be very, very understanding if anyone complains about one.
If someone you know gets a shot, be kind. It actually does hurt. Like, a whole pickin’ lot.
And the lesson learned.