“Christian” has been fighting his fear of needles. But when you are seven years old, nothing seems to make it “okay” that needles must be part of your life. We typically de-access his port on Saturday and access on Sunday evenings. Last Sunday night he did a fantastic job! But tonight was another story.
My husband and I take turns and tonight was my turn. Christian just did not cooperate. My husband had to take over because I just could not get the needle in place. Christian’s blood pressure was through the roof, tears rolling down the side of his face, and as I was holding his arms down to his sides I looked into his eyes and I saw sheer terror.
Terror.
I cant’ believe I am using that word, but there is not another word to describe what I saw in his eyes. I’ve seen it before and it breaks my heart. I can’t stop and get emotional about it…I just have to focus on the task at hand, which is to infuse. To get that factor into his body. To do what is best for him.
And the worst part of tonight, as my husband was pushing the factor into Christian’s body, was hearing his little voice between sobs with his little chest heaving saying, ” I hate….hemophilia.”
Mommy does too.
