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Shot in the butt

July 8, 2009

A day before we left for this two-part vacation, Timothy’s knee started getting a little sore. A little sore and a little swollen. A little sore and a little swollen and a little stiff.

So we prayed, packed the car for two days with my family and four days camping, and took off.

Friday evening we’re in Springfield, getting ready to head out for a dinner reservation, and I decided to use the restroom before we left. Timothy met me in the hall way, opened the door to the bedroom we were borrowing, and whispered, “C’mere.” He pulled up a pant leg to reveal his knee – now very red, warm to the touch, more swollen, emitting heat, and streaking like you never want an infection to do.

Ten minutes later we’re in an emergency care facility just down the road from our dinner reservation filling out paperwork.

The nurse came in and got the story, and made some notes on a chart. Temperature fine. Pulse fine.

The doctor came in and either didn’t speak very good English or was having a very long day. Either way it took a couple of passes to get her to realize yes, there is swelling, and yes, there is pain. She prescribed a magic marker, a shot of antibiotics, a blood sample, and a prescription for more antibiotics. We need to be back in two days for the results of the blood work.

A different nurse came in. Karen. Karen is probably pushing 50, but aging well. Nice lady with a very casual vocabulary and a hint of a southern accent. She took blood, outlined the red area with a Sharpie so we could tell if it spread any more, and disappeared with a promise to quickly return.

And return she did, with a very full syringe.

“Alright man, I gotta put this in your butt.”
“In my butt?”
“Ya.”
“Why my butt?!”
“If I put this much medicine in your arm, you’ll cuss me.”

Pause.

“My butt? Really?”
“Man, your arm muscle is about this big.” *Gesturing with her hands* “Your butt muscle is about this big.” *Again* “Your arm could only take about a third of this. I put a numbing agent in it. You’ll be okay.”
“I’m not worried about the pain, it’s just … my butt?”

He relented. I almost hyperventalated from laughing. She was done before he knew what hit him.

“You’re done?”
“That didn’t hurt, did it?”
“Just my pride.”

He shook Karen’s hand. I took a picture of the Band-Aid on his butt.

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3 Comments leave one →
  1. bianca permalink
    July 8, 2009 9:14 pm

    :D

  2. July 9, 2009 4:12 pm

    tears of laughter. i busted a gut. :)

  3. Lex permalink
    July 10, 2009 4:57 pm

    Seriously. I had to hold my breath while she was actually administering the shot so as not laugh hysterically through my poor husband’s unfortunate trial.

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