It truly is amazing what an impossible deadline does to people. Especially me. So I ask, why did I wait until today to get my immunization shots? And more to the point, did I really need them at all? Whatever the answers, I now have bragging rights to and ownership of a little booklet with the shots all neatly stamped, plus the often sought after "Internationally Recognized Yellow Fever" add-on to my passport. Let's see...I'm covered for yellow fever, malaria, tetanus, diphtheria, pertussis diseases, cholera, and the dreaded TD (Traveller's Diarrhea, aka Montezuma's Revenge). Y'all know what I'm referring to. It's not all paradise. I digress!
So it's early morning, around 0930 hours, the nurse did a bang-up job explaining everything to me. I understood nothing. Under other circumstances I might consider her as a friend. But she was shifty too. While I was at another work station paying for this health care, Mary (not her real name) arranged the vials of active deadly bacteria (her words, not mine) on a sterile sheet. When I returned, she was rather insistent that I sit in the big comfy, blue chair; however, the hard upholstered chair I had been using was quite all right. She was most interested in what "handed" I was. Something was up, but I have never been accused of being the brightest candle on the cake. The first needle was wayyy too easy! Ha! Gimme another one just like the other one! The second one wasn't so bad either. It was at this juncture that I seriously questioned what infants really had to cry about. Needles really didn't hurt! Hardly a butterfly kiss, I thought. It wasn't like in the "old days" when a needle looked more like a spike than anything else. As my mind drifted to visions of sandy beaches, sunny days, and crying babies, Mary, the kindly nurse, drifted to my other side. My "right handed" side. What happened next should not be read by the faint of heart.
I felt her hands, cold, grip the muscle of my right arm. Her knees locked into position, and given her position I knew her feet were well planted into the cement floor hidden beneath the cheap government issue carpet. She threw her arm back and before I could yell "Jimmy cracked corn", she brought her arm forward with enough G force to shame a jet fighter plane. I know I screamed, but I heard nothing. My eyes rolled back into my head, my brain was mush, and I could feel my sweat-drenched body melt into the big comfy, blue chair. The only thing keeping my head from hitting the floor was the foot rest of the dungeon queen's torture chair. The spit of the deadly virus charged through my veins like liquid fire. I was grateful for the small gasps of air my lungs took in to keep me alive. I vowed silently to track the beast who puts my child's child through this hell on earth today or any day in my future.
Quietly, the b**** Mary said, these needles werent as comfortable as the new ones brought in, and wondered if I would be returning for the Swine Flu or Seasonal Flue shot. The question required no response. I can only be glad that the health care system is using what remains of the circa 1950's needles on us Oldtimers.
My next appointment is in two weeks! :)
So it's early morning, around 0930 hours, the nurse did a bang-up job explaining everything to me. I understood nothing. Under other circumstances I might consider her as a friend. But she was shifty too. While I was at another work station paying for this health care, Mary (not her real name) arranged the vials of active deadly bacteria (her words, not mine) on a sterile sheet. When I returned, she was rather insistent that I sit in the big comfy, blue chair; however, the hard upholstered chair I had been using was quite all right. She was most interested in what "handed" I was. Something was up, but I have never been accused of being the brightest candle on the cake. The first needle was wayyy too easy! Ha! Gimme another one just like the other one! The second one wasn't so bad either. It was at this juncture that I seriously questioned what infants really had to cry about. Needles really didn't hurt! Hardly a butterfly kiss, I thought. It wasn't like in the "old days" when a needle looked more like a spike than anything else. As my mind drifted to visions of sandy beaches, sunny days, and crying babies, Mary, the kindly nurse, drifted to my other side. My "right handed" side. What happened next should not be read by the faint of heart.
I felt her hands, cold, grip the muscle of my right arm. Her knees locked into position, and given her position I knew her feet were well planted into the cement floor hidden beneath the cheap government issue carpet. She threw her arm back and before I could yell "Jimmy cracked corn", she brought her arm forward with enough G force to shame a jet fighter plane. I know I screamed, but I heard nothing. My eyes rolled back into my head, my brain was mush, and I could feel my sweat-drenched body melt into the big comfy, blue chair. The only thing keeping my head from hitting the floor was the foot rest of the dungeon queen's torture chair. The spit of the deadly virus charged through my veins like liquid fire. I was grateful for the small gasps of air my lungs took in to keep me alive. I vowed silently to track the beast who puts my child's child through this hell on earth today or any day in my future.
Quietly, the b**** Mary said, these needles werent as comfortable as the new ones brought in, and wondered if I would be returning for the Swine Flu or Seasonal Flue shot. The question required no response. I can only be glad that the health care system is using what remains of the circa 1950's needles on us Oldtimers.
My next appointment is in two weeks! :)
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