Needles often bring queasiness.
The queasiness happens because the vagus nerve reacts and restricts oxygen to the brain. And shifting focus to something else is difficult when the nurse enters the room and aims the sharp implement at our lifeblood.
My dog is dead, my dog is dead. Doesn’t work. I wonder how many presidents I can name, working backward from present day. Not working either. That lady with the half-smile and short brown hair will soon stab my vein. Her gloved hand carries a needle so thin and so precise I can’t think of anything else. Kids are even worse. They scream bloody murder and need seven nurses to hold them down. God bless nurses and pediatricians after a full day of this.
But one day, a strange thing happened. Our two-year-old needed another shot. My wife and I entered the exam room and handed our son an iPhone. He loves a particular car game app and thinks it’s him playing it and not the demo.
Against all odds, the app numbed him more than lidocaine and was more arresting than the needle. With mouths open, we watched the needle jab our little man’s arm, but this time he didn’t so much as blink. He was playing the car game. Like a drug, like a charm, I thought. Suddenly, I didn’t know whether to thank Silicon Valley or renounce it.
Jesus gives a warning. Life gives us too much to overcome or forget—to become numb to. So we seek things to dull the pain … to help us forget bitter times. Modern technology is amazing, but we must be careful not to numb our old anxieties with new intoxicants or let the gadgets own us.
God gives a slope. Between a gentle sip of sherry and being laid out on the floor. Between occasionally checking email and being shackled to the screen. Knowing when enough is enough isn’t easy, so we have words spoken from the lover of our souls: “Be careful, or your hearts will be weighed down.”
Don’t let the things of life weigh you down. Make a plan of prevention.
(Photo courtesy of pixabay.)
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