Sympathy Apprehension

No kid likes going to the doctor. Whether or not they understand that seeing the doctor is a good thing and will keep them healthy, the reality of the situation is that usually when a kid goes to see a doctor, they are often poked and prodded unpleasantly, and sometimes given a shot.


Shots hurt! They’re easier to handle for adults, who have more experience with pain and know that it won’t last. But for a kid (especially an infant), it’s like, “THIS IS THE WORST PAIN EVER” even though it quickly stops.


The last time I can remember getting a shot as a kid, as the doctor was getting the shot ready, he told me to count to ten to distract myself because I seemed nervous. He didn’t specify how quickly, so in my head I counted: “one, two, threefourfivesixseveneightnineten” and was finished before he had even started the shot, so I had to wince through it.


The worst part about shots is not the pain of the shot itself but the apprehension of the pain. For kids, the apprehension may start when they get to the doctor, but for an adult, the apprehension starts when the appointment is made, whether the appointment is for the adult or for their children.


The first time my oldest daughter got a shot, I cried. My emotions were a jumble. I was nervous because I knew it would hurt her and she would cry, and that it had been my decision to make sure she got these things that would hurt. Even though I knew she needed them, the fact that she would be hurting and crying and that there was nothing I could do to take the pain away made me feel very guilty. My daughter felt my apprehensive, guilty mood and became even more apprehensive herself, and was more upset because of it. The nurse finished and got out of my way quickly, saying, “Go ahead and comfort her.” I whisked her up into my arms and rocked her until she decided that she was okay.


It’s amazing what a little experience can do. Today I took my younger daughter to the doctor. The nurse came in with the shots and laid my daughter on her back. I started to get nervous, but remembered that it would be worse for her if I did, so smiled down at her and tried to exude a calm aura. My attitude made all the difference. She got two shots, one in each leg, and didn’t cry a bit after the first one and only for about five seconds after the second one. Everyone praised her for doing such a good job.


Shots aren’t scary. I don’t want my daughters to dread going to the doctor because of them. So I'll just check my sympathy apprehension, and everything will be fine.