Why You Gotta Do That?

This past Friday I went to visit Dr. Mizner again, this time for my 2-month appointment. My parents and I knew going into the visit that I was going to get some vaccinations. What wasn't made clear to me was how these vaccinations were going to be delivered and why exactly I needed them.

As with all other doctor appointments that I have been to, they start me off with a few measurements. This is where I like to shine! My weight came in at 11lbs 6oz. (I understand that to be about average.) My height came in at 23.75 inches. Not bad. That puts me in the upper echelon of babies my age. Of course, these relative benchmarks change wildly in the first months of life. Here is a picture of my lower half on the measuring board.

After the weight and measure, then I was put in a holding cell with my mom and dad. We waited a good 30 minutes for doctor Mizner to be freed up from his other patient. I started to get fussy. I could tell from my dad and mom that something big was going to happen. They tried fixing me some food to calm me down...but I think it was more for their nerves than mine.

Finally, Dr. Mizner was free to check out my great progress and to answer some of the questions that my parents came prepared with. I am pretty sure Dr. Mizner was impressed with my progress from the last time we visted with him. I had put on some good weight and was growing. Also, my parents didn't express any real concerns, wich Dr. Mizner is always on the look-out for. He bid me and my parents farewell and said, "the nurse will give Grace her shots."

What? Wait a second. Heretofore I have taken any medicine I needed by swallowing it. That seems to have been working fine for everyone. Why not keep a good thing going. Surely we have another route we can take. Dr. Mizner, let's talk this through. Mom? Dad? Is anyone going to step in and rationalize with these people?

Back to the holding cell, this time waiting for the nurse. I heard dad say to mom, "if you want to leave when Grace get's her shots, I'll take care of her." Whoa, this is big! If mom can't take it, surely I won't be able to! Somebody get Dr. Mizner! We can talk this through.

Then the nurse came in all smiles. She pulled out these long needles. (Now, I know you are all thinking "long needles" are probably about 3/4 of an inch long. But, to give you a sense of the relative size of those bad-boys, that is longer than my pointer finger. Stick your pointer finger out and take a nice hard look. That my friends is a long needle!) She said there would be three shots, explaining them to mom and dad who didn't listen to a word of it as their minds were racing. Pinch, pinch, pinch.

Just like that I was taken to a point of pain previously unimaginable. Mom was crying, I was crying like never before, and dad was left silent. The nurse place a couple of cute band-aids on my wounded thighs and as quickly as she came, she left. Mom, dad, and I were left to pull ourselves together. Maybe when I get older this will all make some sense. But for now, I'll leave myself to trusting in my parents and Dr. Mizner.