Laying facedown on the gurney.
Carefully draped so the doctor could work with my hamstring.
Poke. Poke. Poke.
She touches where she’s going to put the medicine.
I try to relax.
I know it’s going to hurt.
The nurse rubs my shoulder. That’s never a good sign.
The Botox we used last time didn’t work.
The Phenol waiting to be injected might.
“OK, take a deep breath, this is going to poke a little.”
I close my eyes. I try not to make a sound. I breathe deep and regular.
It doesn’t help much.
It causes me such pain that there is no crying, I can barely breathe to weep.
They say things about how well I did.
I can breathe for a second.