So, yeah. Let's talk needles.
THEY SCARE THE CRAP OUT OF ME. Phew, glad to get that off my chest. But really, if you know me then you most likely know how horribly unlikely it would be for me to become a heroine addict. It's just not going to happen.
For all you brave people who do not fear them, I know that it totally doesn't make sense to be afraid of them. Because, really, once I'm done with the shot/blood drawing/immunization, I truly cannot say that it hurt. Like, at all. And yet... still so, so, so terrified. Seriously.
So, to begin, my blood type is A-. Brad's is A+. It must be known that if you choose to make a baby with someone of the opposite bloodtype that you will get a butt shot. Yes, a BUTT shot. Well, it's like upper-corner-butt-slash-hip-shot. But really, it's totally a butt shot.
I got my negative blood type from my mother, who is also A-. My dad is O+ and as such my mom received the butt shot. (Okay, the technical title is the RH- shot, but butt shot is way more hilarious.) All three times that my mom had to get it she said that it felt like thick, cold peanut butter being injected by an incredibly large needle into her butt. And that it left a huge, painful welt after. Which, of course, terrified me to no end and caused me to pray my entire life that they could somehow figure out how to make shots in pill form, no joke.
All those years my mom kept trying to assure me that the shot would probably be very different and probably much better by the time I got it. Still, I was terrified. Knowing my luck, they'd be injecting rocks in through that thing.
So yeah, found out that I had to get that terrifying shot. Cried when I found out, cried fifteen weeks later on the day I had to go in to get it. Brad was with me, and he said, "Just pretend that it's kitties kneading their claws!" Because, you know, I'm scared of shots but I love kitties. It was a hilarious thought, but I was still terrified.
We get into the doctor's office. I get weighed and pee on the strip and all that jazz that comes with every appointment (which I'm sure you wanted to know), and then we're escorted to our exam room. The nurse runs through more regular checks like blood pressure and heartbeat, and she's just about to leave to grab the doctor when I asked, "Umm, aren't I supposed to get my RH- shot today?"
"Oh yeah!" she said, "Let me go grab that." Then, she leaves us alone.
So we're sitting there. Brad and I are playing Candy Crush to get my mind off the shot, except the whole time I'm imagining having to yank down my pants ah-lah colonscopy style and get a giant needle in the butt.
The nurse comes in. I ask her if I need to take my pants off or something. (That would be a no, just pull them a little bit down on the right side to expose the upper butt/hip.) I tell her that needles make me very nervous. She assures me she'll do it quick. I'm hyperventilating.
All of a sudden Brad just says, "Remember, kitties in your butt!"
This completely catches my attention and I ask incredulously, "Kitties in my butt--?" and then BAM, needle was in. It was out. It was over. That was it? Seriously, that was it. Hugging the nurse, hugging my husband. Calling everyone in the room my BFF. Ready to start makin' it rain with coins or something, I feel so free. Turns out the horrid butt shot really did improve since my mom had last had it (which was over nineteen years ago). My mom was right.
But seriously. "Kitties in your butt" saved me. I could not have done that without crying (again) without Brad there. And that, my friends, is why we are in love. Butt shots and butt kitties and all. Magical, really!