That Didn't Hurt At All

I stood there with my dress shirt pulled up some inches, and my pants pulled down the same distance to expose the bare skin on my right hip. His inquisitive face was very close. Almost uncomfortably close. But hey, we're adults, and he's a professional.

"We can try an injection of cortizone to the spots where you need the scar to reduce, or we can use a topical cortizone," he suggested.
"What do you suggest? It's been a year since the appendectomy. What's the best way to do this?" I asked, relying on his years of experience.
"We may as well go with the injection; it's simple and results are faster."
"Is it terribly painful?"
"Oh, it won't hurt me a bit," he replied with a grin.

It must be one of those jokes that doctors all over the world have used before, and probably with almost every single patient they have. Dentists probably know that joke too, but for some reason, I don't think the people seeing the dentists would find it quite as funny. But as much as I knew it was an old well-repeated joke, I had to chuckle. (Hey, it was funny.)

I lay there on the padded bed thing, and he donned the latex gloves, ready to attack my appendectomy scar. I felt a gentle poking at four distinct points along the length of my scar, but I couldn't strain to see it, for fear of stressing my belly area during the injection. And magically, after those probes, he stepped away. It was amazing, so painless, so easy-breezy-beautiful. I had great new-found respect for my dermatologist!

"That wasn't it, was it?"

"No, that was me and my magic pen, marking off where to inject. And applying a little alcohol on the surface." He wheeled around to the side table, and got the needle, punctured the sealed canister, and loaded it up. Turning to my scar, he announced, "Okay, now we're ready to get started."

Let me tell you this: cortizone injections hurt like a mutha.