How did your parents
get you to do things? Did they bring out the “Black Mariah” ruler? Did they
threaten to withhold TV or candy? Did they ground you?
At our house when
growing up, we were coerced into being good in a way only doctors’ kids can
experience. Needles today sometimes have bad connotations; but back then, they
were effective.
This little story
appeared on my website, “Hilo Days.”
The Injections
Dad was a doctor. You already know that. It was okay. The
family always got a lot of respect, and we got a lot of kids named after us.
But there was a down side. First of all, we could never fake
sickness just to stay out of school. Dad knew all the tricks. Worst of all, Dad
always had a supply of those dreaded hypodermic injections waiting in his
ever-present black bag.
Our booster shots were always up-to-date — without fail. One
good thing was we never had to leave the house and torture ourselves in a
doctor's crowded waiting room, endlessly waiting for the inevitable words: "This
won't hurt a bit."
I remember sitting down many times at the kitchen table at
Obachan's house and being presented with some options:
"You're feeling sick? I'm going to have to give you an
injection!" I went to school.
"You better listen to your mom, or I'm going to give
you an injection!" I listened to Mom.
"You better eat your liver, or I'm going to give you an
injection!" I ate my liver (but I hate it to this day).
"You better stop teasing your sister, or I'm going to
give you two injections!" I was an angel.
You get the idea.
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