Friday, January 31, 2014

It was my buttocks...


In full disclosure, this is a story that is not flattering or pointed in my favor at all. Yet, I feel that it is a tale (tail) that should be told…at least before my husband tells it.

I have had the unfortunate problem of breaking into hives on occasion. When I was young we didn’t always know the cause but in later years we realized that it often occurred when I had an infection that wasn’t treated completely. Most of the symptoms would be gone but then a few days later I would wake to hives. They are not fun, in case, you were thinking they were. The hives stick around until the infection is treated. Not really a big deal just very annoying. I had a little bout of stomach issues last week and so took the appropriate meds and felt like I was on the mend. Then I woke to the hives and took stock and remembered I’ve had some sinus issues that I have been ignoring and I probably had a little sinus infection. No big deal. But the hives…

Michael loaded me in the car and off to the doctor we went. We have a good doctor here who has been wonderful. He has truly saved our kid’s lives and has kept us healthy. He was also a Tennessean for many years…so we are connected. Totally. 

We get to the office, I put my name in. My husband spends the next 15 minutes haggling for what price we are going to pay on our bill. Yes, he bargained my doctor bill. I realized then, it was not going to be the best visit. After three hours of waiting I go to see the nurses. After a lengthy explanation on the past two weeks and a good showing of the hives that covered most of my body, I see the nurse write down diarrhea and fever on my chart. These are two symptoms that I really hadn’t put much emphasis on because they really weren’t relevant to our current situation, but ok.

After another 30 minute wait a technichain comes out putting on her gloves and tells me to come for my malaria test. I am pretty confused at this point because…well, I have no malaria symptoms. But she says the doctor refuses to see me without. Now, maybe it was the waiting, or maybe me skipping lunch, I have a hunch it revolved mostly around the incesently itchy marks and that little heat problem we have over here. But I went crazy white lady. I refused the test I marched out and told my husband he better choose the right team, here. He followed me out and said those words I most hate to hear, “Now, Rachel…”AHHHHH! I then fish in his pocket pull out the key and promptly lock myself in the car and tell him to get our fee back. This was not one of my better moments as a wife, a missionary, an adult. But it’s were I was and unfortunately, it was not one of my worst moments of this day.

My long suffering husband goes back into the office, gets his hard haggled money back and joins me in the vehicle. I was a bit embarrassed at this point and say, “I’m sorry, they were just listening to the doctor weren’t they.” He smiles and says, “No, he’s been out to lunch for the last couple of hours.” So maybe my fit wasn’t justified, but come on!

I know what my doc in the states would prescribe so we head down to our pharmacy and I write a list of all we will need. Sure enough I could get everything I needed and our pharmacist is one of the nicest guys on the planet. We head home with the meds that will cure all that ails me and a smile on this nutty woman’s face.

We walk in the door and I ask Michael if he would mind giving me the injection that will jump start the end to these hives. We have both had  to learn a few things since coming here about medicine, and injections is one of those things, so I knew he could do it. But…a strange thing happened when I asked Mike about the shot. He got this crazy smile on his face and a gleam of anticipation that I haven’t seen…well we’ve been married a long time. Then it occurs to me what a royal pain in the butt I have been all day and I understand something, first my husband is really looking forward to stabbing me with a needle and second, he is my only option. Oh no. We go into the kitchen and I prepare the syringe and I keep hearing him tell the girls how he is going to stand back and shoot the thing just like a dart then he can do a quick spin kick to push in the depressor. I’m not a fan of shots, especially not the one that may be administerd in a questionable fashion, plus, have you spent time with my husband? Do you trust him with a needle and your behind?

I make my way to the bedroom and lie across our bed, my safe place, my refuge, but now it is just an ugly place of torture. Sweat is litteraly running down my back and I may have swallowed my tongue. My husband walks in the room and I bare the royal behind so the mark can be made. He makes contact with the spot about to take the hit and I turn to look at his face and he is smiling!! Like Jack Nicholson in that movie with the kid. You know, “red rum red rum.” And then an even stranger thing happens I roll over and grab his hand and start screaming. I am literally fighting my husband. What is happening?? I keep saying, no this is a bad idea. Stop! He continues to laugh and I continue to insist we stop the madness. Then he pulls the ultimate below the belt (no pun intended). He turns and yells, “Hey kids, come hold mom’s arms so I can give mom a shot.” What? The man has called in the calvary! Of course Anna is the first to enter the room with a smile that looks vaguely like the one her father is wearing. This is getting very real very fast. The rest of the crew follows. A decision has to be made at this point. I will have to take all of my children to the doctor again sometime in the future and I will probably find myself in a similar situation to the one I am in now. When this happens, what do I want their response to be? I turn around like a good girl at this point. Of course, not without a quick, “You better not be smiling, Ropiecki.” I turn my head to the side and look at my children lined up in a row at the foot of my bed seeing this all unfold.

My husband proceeds to inject me with what feels like hot boiling lava all while surpressing a giggle and my kids all laugh and point and say, “I see mom’s butt.” I revised my parenting plan this morning. I then doped myself properly and slept for the next two hours both because I was very itchy and because I couldn’t face the shame…

Lessons learned, um, no. Butt hurts, um, yes. But I do think I made my husband’s day.

 

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