Lord, Help Me

So, technically, it's Joshua who's having a painful medical procedure done this afternoon, but seriously, it is I (and possibly the physician's assistant we're seeing) who will do the most suffering.

He has a couple of warts that need to be removed. I've never had this done, but from what I understand, the process of freezing them off is fairly painful. With any other child, this may be no big deal . . . but this is Joshua.

I have a feeling our doctor will never forget the Throat Swab Incident of 2008. It took over 20 minutes to swab the throat of a six year-old. This was not a shot. Not a blood-draw. It was a q-tip.

When he has to get a shot, the crying begins when we leave the house, and by the time we are called back and he gets the shot, he has reached full-blown hysteria. (Keep in mind, this is the same child who calmly told me that a wasp had stung him while he was sitting in a kiddie pool. Turns out THREE wasps had stung him, and he didn't even cry. The hysteria is apparently due entirely to the anticipation, not the pain threshold.)

So, as we head to the doctor's office this afternoon, I am inexpressibly thankful that when he asks me if it's going to hurt, I can honestly say, "I don't know what it feels like; I've never had it done." That should make the waiting room portion tolerable. It's that time of anticipation before warts number 2 and 3 that I'm concerned about.

At least it will probably pale in comparison to the Throat Swab Scream from Hell.