The tiny paper cup held within its contents 15 mg of Valium. I slugged them back like a professional pill popper using the proverbial shot glass of water provided. If you know me, then you understand the implications of the aforementioned sentence. To successfully swallow A pill, let alone three, is a true sign of my own personal growth and maturity.
Amidst the barrage of vaccinations prior to entering Kindergarten, I distinctly remember being held down by a team of nurses as I refused to allow the enlarged popsicle stick to snake its way down the back of my throat. Feisty at five years of age, my survival instinct left me no choice but to continuously uppercut and block the doctor's hand as he made his way toward my "say Ahhhhhh" positioned mouth. My mother, poised anxiously at the bedside, playing with the strap of her purse, making her best effort at cheering me on with "C'mon Rachel, it will only take a second." But still, I could not succumb on my own. Back up support arrived dressed in brightly patterned scrubs, holding down my limbs.
As a middle schooler, early in the throws of hormonal adjustments and the appalling realization that I could now breed, I forced down countless tablespoons of liquid that tasted like battery acid. Unable to fathom the idea of swallowing an entire aspirin roughly the size of a Tic-Tac, my mother dissolved that nasty little pellet in a swig of Pepsi for my sense of ease. "That was easier?" you may ask; well, I didn't do it for the taste.
As a college student, I continued to refuse the strep test from a physician whose look of incredulity said more than required. Sitting on the table, feverish and lethargic, he shook his head. "You mean to tell me you can have your ears pierced eight times and get a tattoo, but you're too scared for this?!" With utter defiance and determination, I clamped my mouth shut and signaled a curt nod. No way, no how. Not today. But please, please... make me feel better.
It was only years ago that I received a pill crusher from GNC as a gag gift, pun intended. With age and changing medical needs, I soon faced the reality of pills being a part of my daily existence. I slowly but surely grew increasingly comfortable with swallowing something that I was not supposed to chew. If we are talking about vitamins, I'm still a chewables girl. I have yet to find any form of supplement smaller than what seems like a baby's fist.
The thing about pain, though, is it stretches one's limits. I would never have imagined the day where I slammed back a couple of pills at a time like a real grown up. To this day, I remain in awe watching my best friend toss back a blood pressure pill, fluid pill, calcium pill, antihistamine, fried egg, beef tip and glass of wine in one fell swoop. How do you DO that?
But like a good patient, I obeyed the suggested orders prior to the injection. "I'll be back in a few minutes" the nurse said. So I laid back down, my dad sitting in the room with me, waiting for the relaxing effect of the medication to make itself known.
Before long, I was being wheeled down the hall towards the x-ray room. Something akin to a perma-grin settled onto my face, and I was joining in at random to the chorus of the Christmas songs playing overhead. I had no idea where the music was coming from. I only knew that I heard it, and I wanted to be a part of its jolly merry-making.
My eyes were heavy-lidded and oscillated between open and closed frequently. I found myself being rolled along in a gentle cloud on wheels, serenaded by Bing Crosby, traipsing about with mental images of feasting, fires and egg nog. The cloud came to a less-than-smooth stop. I giggled. Silly cloud.
"Okay on the count of the three, you're going to roll over on to the table" the mystery voice cooed.
"Mmmkay" I replied, revving myself up for what seemed to require a lot of effort though in actuality did not. I was surprised to be greeted by a pillow of soft and billowy proportions. Encouraged by the mystery voice to rest my head and relax, I yawned, puffed up the pillow to appropriate comfort, and rested my head.
"How are you feeling?" the mystery voice asked. I peeled my eyes open and saw only a colorful x-ray vest moving about the room. It reminded me of the cartoons of my youth, where the voice and the legs were all that was seen and heard of the character.
"Ohhh, I'm fine." I sighed. And returned to my caroling.
"Do you have a favorite Christmas song?" a new and accented voiced called from above. I was jolted from my revelry for just a moment, and then quickly recalled that I was interrupted from singing, and gave my best Sarah Palin response,
"Ohhh, any and all of them really." I had succumbed to the elation and relaxation of the moment. With eyes closed and grin firmly in place, I continued to my quiet one-person sing-a-long.
The doctor giggled in spite of himself. Clearly, I was high. Clearly, he knew this.
"Okay, just a pinch." I paused in my caroling. Let out a whimper. And returned to "We Wish You A Merry Christmas."
"You good?" asked that doctor.
"Mmmhmmm... and a happy New Year..."
"Okayyyy... just a pinch."
"Oh, ouch. Just hear those sleigh bells ring-a-ling, ting-ting-aling tooooo...."
"You're done. Good job."
"Wow, really? That wasn't bad AT ALL!" I exclaimed like a valley girl straight out of Clueless.
Greeted by my father's goofy grin upon my return to the room, I couldn't help but feel my heart swell up with insurmountable joy. I was just so grateful to be alive, to have my daddy there with me, to have a ride to my mommy's house where I knew there would be all manner of chocolate and pimento cheese and chips and cookies and meatloaf and a soft couch and love and attention and just a good time had by all. I took full advantage of the moment and held tightly onto my daddy's arm as he walked me to the car and entertained my nonsensical rambling.
Upon arrival to my childhood home, I felt like an 8 year old little girl all over again. I felt secure and cared for because of my boo-boo. What was a cloud on wheels became the cloud I walked on. Who knew that being a grown up (i.e. taking medicine) could come full circle to such a youthful and childlike experience? Ah, I suppose sometimes, adulting pays off. Even when you least expect it.
Especially when following doctor's orders.
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