Surviving vaccinations aged 3

diet coke and a pizza please - 6 Apr 17

I should’ve seen it coming. The writing was on the wall, if only I had given it a modicum of forethought. Today was my three year olds vaccinations day. I’d done a small amount of pre-jab prep 2 days before (you’ll be having some injections at the doctors to stop you getting poorly, if you’re brave we can go for cafe tea afterwards). What does that even mean; ‘if you’re brave’? I think it translates into ‘if you don’t ball your eyes out and make me feel extremely guilty for holding you down whilst 2 nurses simultaneously stab you with a sharp thing in your arms’.

So I collect her from preschool with my 4 month old asleep in the pushchair and she proudly tells her teacher she’s off for her operation at the doctors. No, no, your injections. Oh god, she really has no clue what’s coming. The last time she was jabbed she was a baby.

Now at this point I should disclose that my daughter has form for extreme over reactions to injury. As a toddler we were so proud that she would trip and go flying and jump straight up with an ‘oh dear’ and carry merrily along her way. My husband and I congratulated ourselves on our excellent parenting that had resulted in her being so tough. No wrapping her up in cotton wool by us!

I’m a health professional and was taught that if preschool children complain of pain, limp, refuse to use an arm etc, you take it seriously. There will be an injury. Young kids don’t fake it. I now laugh at this utter BS.

My daughter had the random bad luck to fall over my mums knitting bag when she was looking after her for the night and stab her leg on a small but sharp pair of scissors that were poking out of it. When we returned home my mum revealed that she had refused to walk for 24 hours! They’d done none of the fun activities that she’d had planned as she literally wouldn’t put her foot to the floor. My mums no softie but even so I thought, I can get her out of this ‘let’s go to the park on your bike’ I suggest. Ha! She’ll forget all about her leg on her balance bike. No, no, she pushed all the way there with just one leg and hopped around the frickin park. When she eventually, tentatively put her foot to the floor and started walking again, every night she still refused to walk again after her bath (by bath I mean vague splashing of water well away from the wound whilst she howled) when she was reminded of her injury by the presence of the plaster.

So back to today, really I should’ve known that some level of disability would result from her jabs and realised that going to a cafe for tea at the time when the baby would need constant feeding prior to bedtime was perhaps a little ambitious. But, no. I needed to assuage my guilt with a fun activity.

Immediately post jab she was quiet, no crying, which as it turns out felt way worse. I wish I could’ve taken back my ‘be brave’ pep talk and swapped it for a ‘it’s going to hurt like buggery so have a good cry’ one. The silent, walking along by my side was gut wrenching. Holding her hands clasped to her chest in the style of a vicar giving a sermon.

She chose a cafe and what she was going to eat with single words and then the food arrived. Of course her arms were paralysed, they were always going to be. Before we’ve even embarked on the charade of me feeding her; she needs a wee. So with baby under one arm and nappy bag under the other (as a crotchel sniff has revealed that she isn’t the only one in need of a bathroom trip) we slowly make our way to the loo. I’m not clear as to why her legs were marginally affected too but apparently they were. We get in the loo and she freaks out saying she wants to go home. There’s no chance I’m bouncing her along on the buggy board the 15 minute walk home without having eaten as

a) her bladder control is not that effective and b) there’s bugger all food in the house.

I lift her on and thank god she goes. The nappy bag then reveals no wet wipes. Fuckety-fuck, I’ve left them in the swimming bag. It turns out that using toilet paper on a baby’s poo is extremely ineffective and should be reserved for emergency situations only.

Back at the table we proceed with me feeding her, she’s even got the balls to tell me what she wants on her fork next but I style it out, smiling at all the other parents at nearby tables knowing that she is as stubborn as a mule and if we don’t do it this way, no food will be eaten.

Now of course, my 4 month old can only tolerate this non feeding of her for so long and her polite squeaks for some milk please mummy, become more insistent. Happily she is currently going through a ‘why quietly suck the milk out when you can wrestle the living shit out of the boob?’ phase, so it’s all my hands on deck trying to protect my nipples from another beating.

My eldest clearly assesses the situation and realises if she wants those chips whilst they’re good and hot (obviously only warm, no child will ever eat anything that’s actually hot) then she’s gonna have to overcome her paralysis. One hand tentatively slinks from her lap onto the edge of the table. Then, caterpillar like, it inches onto the nearest chip at the edge of the plate, her head dips down to meet it and bingo! A chip is consumed. I sit shaking gently with silent laughter knowing that to acknowledge her achievement will result in no further attempts at self feeding.

We get home without much further drama, she’s initially reluctant to attempt the buggy board as, of course, she can’t hold on. But it turns out she has a core of steel and can balance just fine without the use of her arms. Once home we have a slight stand off about who’s going to get the remote control whilst I’m again feeding her sister, but I know to pick my battles and hobble over myself.

There’s no way on this earth I’m attempting a bath tonight as even though the plasters (cotton wool taped on as no GP can ever give you an actual plaster these days as one person once was allergic) are high up on her arms, I’m sure any contact of her hands and forearms with water will cause inexplicable pain. So all that remains to be seen is how long post vaccination paralysis lasts, hopefully not too long, I’m not sure my new found patience will last beyond breakfast!

diet coke and a pizza please

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