Looking at the cut on my leg, I couldn’t help but feel anxious. It was bleeding profusely. I would need a tetanus shot. God, I hated injections. Sara walked in echoing my thoughts. “Oh dear! How did you cut your leg! You are bleeding all over the floor!” She ran to get the first aid box.
I hopped to the chair on the balcony and sat down. “Don’t pout,” admonished Sara when she returned. Lifting my leg, she placed it on the table and rubbed some antiseptic liquid over it. I howled in pain.
“That burns! Be careful,” I snapped.
“Don’t be a baby now. Save it for the injection,” she said hiding her smile. “Come, let’s go. I hope you don’t need stitches. It looks deep,” she said standing up and extending a hand.
Normally I would have protested. But knowing it was a rusting iron pot stand that had caused the gash, I couldn’t just let it be. “Fine but don’t you dare laugh at the doctors,” I warned. The last time I had needed a shot Sara had laughed so much, the nurse had sent her out. God should not give anyone siblings like that! Laughing at her brother’s misery! I was afraid this time would be no different.
At the doctors, I tried to distract myself as waited for our turn, but the foot was throbbing now. I looked at Sara, talking to a friend on the phone. I was blessed to have a sister like her. It was just her teasing I found torturous. A chalk board on the wall near the Nurse Station caught my eye. ‘God is in everything I see because God is in my mind,’ it said. Turning my nose up in disgust I looked away. Geez. That was one corny statement. God is in everything and my mind!
Just then, the person ahead of me were called in for their appointment. My heart began to beat a little faster. It would be my turn soon. I lifted my leg to see a gaping wound. Would I need stitches? I felt faint. I was 16! It was stupid to be afraid of injections and doctors. But my childhood fear never seemed to go away. It was just too embarrassing now.
I waved to Sara. Despite her teasing, she knew of my fear and always accompanied me to the doctor if mom wasn’t around. She nodded her head to indicate she is coming. My gaze went to the saying on the board. What if God was in everything? Maybe he would be in the doctor? Maybe he would be in the injection? Maybe he was in Sara who came to me without laughter now. I looked at her suspiciously, but my sister seemed calm.
As I walked in, I found myself repeating “God is everywhere” in my head. In that door, in that light. A strange distance seemed to enter between me and everything. As my wildly racing heart slowed down a bit, I heard the doctor say I didn’t need stitches. Just an injection. I watched the injection move towards me. God was in it because God was in my mind. I was thinking of God. God who I never thought of before. I closed my eyes and waited for the stab of pain. Waited for the blood to pound in my ears. God was in my body because he was in my thoughts, my mind. I felt nothing. I opened my eyes to see the doctor applying a bandage over my cut. What the injection was done? Where was the pain?
A smile danced over my lips. Sara looked me with a quizzing look in her eyes. I smiled at her. I had no answer.