Today Mary and I went to the lab to get our blood drawn for our yearly lab work. As always, Mary was a trooper, smiling and cheerful throughout the process. One stick, and four vials. Mary always watches the needle carefully. I can’t watch; I always look away.
We were on opposite sides of a divider, each with our own lab tech. Shortly into the process on my side, I heard Mary loudly proclaim, Ouch!” Just a loud word. No emotion. No fear. Only a loudly spoken word. Then her tech spoke over the screen to mine, “She’s still grinning!”
Years and years ago, when Mary was still very little, we practiced blood draws. I told her they would hurt. To practice, I had her sit in a chair, and I lightly poked her arm with a pin. She was supposed to say, “Ouch,” as soon as she felt the pin poke. We would take turns, and she would get to poke me. I’d say, “ouch.” She learned that it did hurt, but not enough to cry. Little hurts like that were worth an “ouch” only.
Mary had had two glasses of water about an hour apart before we went out for our fasting blood draws. Since she was well hydrated, they got her on the first stick. Me, I hadn’t had much to drink, and they had to stick me twice.
Ouch.
Filed under: medical | Tagged: blood tests, Down Syndrome
what troopers…the pair of you!
go Mary!!
What a good idea.
Several years ago we watched some friends lie through their teeth to their son, promising that it wouldn’t hurt. We were appalled, and vowed that we would always be honest.
We’ll have to deal with this with our oldest in the next year before he starts kindergarten. “I’ll just tell him to suck it up,” my husband said.
Your method sounds better.