“The Day I Evaded The Shot Thing”



Pamela Perry Blaine 

©November 3, 2005



“But Momma, I don’t like pink medicine!”  I exclaimed.


“It will make your tummy feel better,” Momma insisted as she aimed

 that loaded spoon of Pepto-Bismol right toward my face.


“It tastes yucky,” I cried. 


It didn’t matter how much I complained and protested Momma

was quite adamant that I open my mouth and swallow the pink medicine. 

However, I still sat with my lips pressed tightly together in stubborn refusal.


“Okay, put on your shoes, we’ll just have to take you to the doctor then,”

Momma said without missing a beat as she slipped her coat

 on over her dress and reached for her purse. 


Momma knew I hated going to the doctor.  It was because I was

 afraid of what I called, “the shot thing”.  The shot thing was what is

better known as a hypodermic needle but who knows when the doctor

might draw it out of it’s scabbard like a sword and stab me with it!

 I had experienced it before and it felt just like that

awful bee that stung me last summer. 


However, one look at Momma and I knew this was almost the

end of the battle.  The big showdown scene was about to begin. 

Momma was standing there with the spoon in one hand and my coat

 in the other.   I knew there was no way that I was going to win so

 with great reluctance I ever so slowly opened my mouth.  I scrunched

my face up as I swallowed that spoon full of pink medicine.  I closed

my eyes tightly and held my breath as long as I could to put off

 tasting the disgusting liquid. 


After I swallowed it, I made sure to make all the appropriate gagging,

coughing, and whining sounds so that Momma would be sure

to know what a terrible thing she had just done to me.  I had to swallow

the medicine because I thought the alternative was too terrible. 

I just couldn’t take a chance on a visit to the doctor.  There was just

no telling whether or not that doctor might decide to deploy “the shot thing”. 


Later that day, I did get better thanks to the makers of Pepto-Bismol and

 my mother’s tenacity.  The good news was that I didn’t have to go

to the doctor nor did I have to deal with “the shot thing”. 


Since that time, I’ve often wondered if Momma was bluffing to get me

to take the pink medicine or if she really would have taken me to

 the doctor if I had refused to take my medicine.  I guess I’ll

never know but I do know that I never messed with Momma when

she meant business because there was no way to win. 


I took my medicine that day and managed to save my pride by

pronouncing myself the heroine of “Act One” of the play

called My Childhood.  This particular scene was

titled, “The Day I Evaded the Shot Thing!”



Pamela Perry Blaine 

©November 3, 2005