Wednesday, 24 June 2009

• Sore Rump

  Sore Rump

  

  Steve had to give me a shot Saturday.

  The spot between my rump and my hip bone was SORE for much of that evening.

  Just had to whine to you all.

  I thought I'd give you all a good laugh and write about how SHOCKED I was when the doctor told me on Friday that I needed a shot on Saturday evening and then I had to return to see him on Monday. I knew I was going to get a shot some time in all this. I just didn't picture Steve and me administering it OURSELVES.

  Have I ever told you how squeamish I am?!?!?! When it comes to shots, I brace, close my eyes, and wait with full trust in the medical training of the person administering it.

  The doctor had to repeat the instructions twice because I just couldn't hear him through my shock. Thank goodness there was a step-by-step instruction sheet. (We two with the graduate degrees followed them closely and meticulously, almost like we'd just learned how to read. No room for dyslexic readings here; this is my BUTT we're talking about!)

  The doctor started to explain how to find the right spot. I'm very moronic when it comes to anatomy and such.

  I had that deer-in-the-headlights look.

  

  The doc tried to give me medical-school style directions on finding the right muscle: find the hip, make a vee with your hand and thumb, go to the thumb...

  I interrupted him and half-jokingly said, "You'll just have to mark it with an X because I'll never find that exact spot on my own."

  The words were barely out of my mouth when he whipped out his ballpoint pen and etched a thick X right there!

  I grinned and thanked him. We were both proud of his work. I was dismissed to my errands and my 3-hr drive home.

  

  That evening as we were getting ready for bed, I recapped the appointment and the instructions for Steve. I realized he'd get a great laugh over the X on my rump, so I whipped off my pants, pulled my undies half down like the puppy does for little baby Jodie Foster in the famous Coppertone advertisement, and...

  NUTHIN.

  And I mean nothing.

  "Oh, crap. Now what? How on earth are we going to find the spot for the shot?" I was stunned to stupidity.

  "Did you sweat a lot on the drive home?" he laughed.

  "I dunno. I don't think so. Wait. Yes. I must have. All that stormy weather, the freeways and the slick roads...I guess I must have." I'm not a very sweaty person in the first place, but I guess I never thought I would sweat right there. I mean, when you're stressed, you don't check your backside for sweat marks!

  Steve got down close, inspecting the general vacinity up close (that would make a great scene in a romantic comedy) and...EUREKA! He found it!

  There was a faintly scraped, slightly pink X. Thank goodness the doctor used a ballpoint that scraped my skin a little. If you knew what you were looking for, there was even a red dot in the skin where the lines in the X met...if you looked closely. So I grabbed a big ole permanent marker and we wrote a big X over the spot and prayed it would last until the designated time for the shot.

  

     

   

  It did. All is well in our little world.

  Who says life can't be a romantic comedy?

   

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