Claudia, the nurse, patiently explained Jack had a bad case of poison ivy. He was clearing some fence line and tangled with the stuff. It was obvious Jack lost that encounter.
Jack continued to rub and dig all around. Claudia decided it was time to see a doctor.
Doctor may be a six letter word to most of us. But to Jack it is the worst four letter word in history. He detests doctors!
First was the protest. "I'm not going. Not. Not. Not. You can't make me."
Then came, "I'll go when I get home. It can wait. No problem."
Finally the realization set in, "I want a blanket and a box of tissues. Claudia, you will have to drive. I can't manage it."
"Okay," I said. "Let's head to the emergency room."
"Emergency room!" they both shrieked. "We need an urgent care facility."
Obviously they were from the city.
"We can drive a hour and a half to Omaha and wait to be seen in an urgent care. Or we can mosey over to our local hospital and been seen immediately."
They skeptically agreed with my logic.
I have three children. We have traveled thousand of miles in the car. Nothing prepared me for riding thirty minutes with Jack to the emergency room. The whining. The many proclamations of "No Way am I getting a shot. Not going to happen folks."
We arrive at the emergency room. Claudia is holding Jack's hand. (Actually she is tugging him towards the entrance.) There is no wait. We are ushered into an examining room. All the while Jack is informing the nurse, "I don't do shots!"
The jovial doctor bounced into the room. He turns Jack's arm this way and that before proclaiming "We can fix that poison ivy up. No problem. Nurse please give him an injection of fast acting steroid."
Jack's face turns white.
I can feel it coming. It started at my toes. Traveled up my legs, across my stomach, into my throat and bubbled out my mouth. I could not restrain my giggles.
Then the doctor laid the bombshell. "I think we need a slow acting steroid also. Two injections please nurse."
Jack was now green.
I couldn't restrain myself. Laughter erupted from my mouth and tears ran down my face. I glanced at Claudia. She was covering her face. Her body was wracked with spasms of laughter.
If knifes could have come out of Jack's eyes, we would have been the target.
Jack managed to squeak out, "Which sleeve should I roll up?"
The nurse preparing the injections calmly answered, "Oh we don't want anything rolled up. You are going to have to be pulling something down."
That's when Claudia and I hightailed it out of the room. We laughed until every part of our body hurt!
I discovered the ride to the emergency room was a piece of cake. The moaning and wailing from the back seat didn't cease on the drive home.
"Oh my poor bum. Both sides!"
"We didn't bring a blankie!"
"Where's the pillow for me to sit on?!"
Luckily I was a preschool teacher. I can block things out.
We arrived home without tossing Jack into the ditch somewhere along the way. Jack didn't sit much that day unless he had a cushion to pad his bum. He did survive his ordeal.
The moral of the story is; if your brother-in-law visits and needs a ride to the ER-call an Uber! It may cost a fortune to find you in the country but will save your sanity for later in life.
