Botox and Bolo Ties

This afternoon, I was officially indoctrinated into the very exclusive Dystonia Club. I got my first round of Botox. Getting a lethal neurotoxin injected into your neck is not for the faint of heart. But after months of this painful twisting feeling, I was willing to give anything a whirl.

My anxiety about the procedure had been building for days leading up to my appointment. By the time my care team entered the exam room, I was sweating bullets and futilely attempting some deep breathing exercises like I was in labor, about to give birth. Oddly, my doctor’s turquoise bolo tie distracted me, lightening my mood. I envisioned him as a John Wayne-like cowboy with Botox in his holster, gearing up for a standoff in a high-noon duel against my bad-guy neck muscles. 

I asked him how painful all of this was going to be. And I kid you not, with a delivery straight from a western movie, he said, “I’m not in the business of hurting people, ma’am.”

He then went on to share how he was going to identify the muscles to shoot and how he’d be using a topical anesthetic spray each time to mask the pain. His assistant asked if I wanted to hold her hand. Very sweet, but I probably would have deeply dug my nails into her, so I clenched a wad of surgical gloves instead.

The doctor poked around, identifying the offending muscles, and gave me warning ahead of each injection. Spray, poke, Spray, poke. Spray, poke… It wasn’t the most wonderful experience, but it wasn’t nearly as awful as I thought it would be. 

And then it was over. I got in my car, and returned to work from my home office. My Botox procedure anxiety is all but gone, but questions remain… Will I get relief? Will I experience side effects? Will I be able to live with getting this procedure every three months? Why does my doctor wear a bolo tie? All shall eventually be revealed, maybe…

Song of the Day: Hit Me with Your Best Shot, Pat Benatar