It's Not My Turn, It's His This Time

Up bright and early, showered and dressed, we were out of the house and on our way to the Imaging Center to get tests done. Afterward, to the lab to have blood drawn. These tests had to be rescheduled to today because hubby had to leave town on the original scheduled dates. At least it's done and he is expecting to leave town any day now so we are grateful that we could get these tests rescheduled so quickly and completed.


I have a two-step ladder in the living room parked in front of the tv. I position myself on it standing only on the ball of my foot with the heel unsupported by the step. I lower and raise myself up and down on my foot to stretch the muscles. It's painful as it stretches. Rehab is never fun. I'm hoping this corrects my problem and I won't have to get a steroid injection. Can you hear me whimper? I do that when someone hints that I might have to have any sort of injection. A needle pointed in my direction will cause me to hyperventilate.

I remember the first time I applied to a hospital after graduating from nursing school. I had to go to the hospital lab for blood work for preemployment. I whimpered, cringed and pulled away when the phlebotomist leaned toward me with the needle. She knew it was a preemployment requirement from the orders she had received but she didn't know where I would be working. She didn't know I was a nurse albeit a new grad nurse.
When she asked where I would be working, I answered with one word "housekeeping". I was too embarrassed to tell her I was an RN.
Now, don't think you have misread this. I said I didn't like getting an injection; I don't mind GIVING them at all! I figured out a longer time ago it was better to give then receive. I do have a lot of empathy for my patients because of this. I'll continue my rehab exercises and hope to avoid the needle!