Needles still hurt

I wish there was a magical transformation that happens at diagnosis, where all of a sudden the pain and fear of shots disappears. It doesn’t. Needles still hurt and shot anxiety is still a thing.

I remember when Marshall wasn’t using a pump and he was doing MDI (multiple daily injections). Nearly 20 years post diagnosis and he STILL at times had to psych himself up to poke a needle in his thigh. The kids STILL get anxious and tearful on site change and sensor change days. Annual blood draws for Walker and biannual draws for Ollie are high stress events, not only for the kids but consequently for Marshall and me as well.

I’ve heard it more times than I ever thought I would: “I could never have diabetes, I HATE needles.” Or worse: “I could never give my kids a shot and make them cry, it would just break my heart.” Really? REALLY?! I guarantee you, if the options were to give your kid a shot and make them cry, or sit by and watch them die, you’d sure as hell find it in you to give them a shot.

I wasn’t given an opportunity to ease into the idea. We brought Walker to the ER at 3 pm, and by 10 pm Marshall had given her the first shot of insulin. We were sitting in a cramped triage room at Maine Medical Center’s ER, and the pediatric endocrinologist looked at us both and said, “You need to give her a shot now.” I looked at Marshall, I’m sure with terror in my eyes. It seemed obvious that HE would be the first to do this. The doctor looked at me and said “He already knows how to do this. YOU should do it.” Well, anyone who knows me knows as soon as you tell me what you think I should do, I’ll do the opposite. Aside from the fact that this man was actively saving my daughter’s life, I didn’t like him. I looked him square in the eyes and said “I’ll have every shot after this to get it right. He will do it, and I will watch.” End of story. But of course, Marshall didn’t want to do it either. He had given himself thousands and thousands of shots, but this was the first he had given his sick, exhausted, and terrified daughter. Not any easier for him than had I done it myself. But he did it, and I did the next, and that’s how it’s been ever since.

A year later when I had to give Ollie his first shot it was just as gut wrenching. I knew the mechanics of it, but it didn’t make it any easier. There was no pomp and circumstance this time around; Ollie didn’t require a hospital stay or any medical stabilization. We met the same doctor in his office, went over some baseline carb ratios and basal loads, collected prescriptions, and were on our way within a couple hours. This is how it was meant to be for Ollie; a no nonsense, give it to me straight kind of kid. His first shot was just after lunch, and I gave it to him as he lay down in the back of our Suburban in the restaurant parking lot. He cried for 15 minutes before the actual shot, and I quietly broke down as I gave him the first of many injections.

Is it still so hard every time? No. The fear of the unknown is gone. But the pain of each shot is still real. And the constant reminder in the poke of a needle that “you have no choice in this” is sometimes the most painful part of all.