Tuesday, October 14, 2003

I Won't Grow Up.

I don’t wanna!  I don’t wanna!  I don’t wanna!

Now, I’m not actually having a dialogue with myself inside my head (‘cause that would be, y’know, nuts) but I will admit to having rather mixed feelings on this.

See, in addition to the trip to New Zealand, there’s a little side trip to Fiji in the works.  (Funny story how that came about.  Ask me later.)  And, according to the nice people at the CDC, before one goes to Fiji, one ought to (oh no!) get some shots.

Here’s the thing.  I haven’t had a shot since 1977.  Honest.  My folks had me pumped up with … wow, when I add it all up, it’s about 15 injections … before the age of ten -- pretty much everything a growing body needs -- and thereafter, it just stopped.   (I spent the next four years psyching myself up for the dreaded booster shot at age 14.  When we went to the pediatrician, he said, “We’ve been overmedicating kids.  If you step on a rusty nail, we’ll give you a tetanus shot then.”  So, four years of worrying for nothing.)   I haven’t had a shot in 25 years.  And my memory of them is the good, solid fear of a ten-year-old.

When I first contemplated the trip to Fiji, I realized that I’d need a Hep A immunization (and probably a tetanus booster).  And I said to myself, “Self, are you gonna be a big baby and miss out on a trip to Fiji ‘cause you’re all afraid of a little shot, or are you gonna grow the hell up and just do it and go.”   I booked the trip.  Easy to be bold when things are six months away.

Well, I did it.  This morning, I called up a doctor (I don’t actually have a primary care physician right now.  Funny story there, too.  Ask me later), made an introductory appointment, and made sure he had some Hep A shots sitting on the shelf.   Friday morning.  8:45.  Da-dum.

I keep telling myself that shots don’t hurt as much as I thought they did as I kid, and I’ve probably felt an awful lot more pain zillions of times since in stupid injury-causing things I’ve done, and, hey, my cat got her shots and she didn’t even meow.   I can be stronger than a little kitten, right?  RIGHT?

Mommy?

2 comments:

andreakingme said...

Heh, heh. You wuss.

I had shot in me hinnie just weeks ago (Demoral for pain, I just had knee surgery). Jumped when they swabbed the spot with alcohol. Didn't even twitch when they poked me.

I also had a shot in the spine just weeks ago (an epidural), the Mother of All Shots. Piece of cake.

This is one of those situations where your imagination is your worst enemy. Really.

pegluh said...

I get needles stuck in my at least once a year, usually twice, for routine blood tests. The initial prick isn't bad, but it's sort of neat watching the blood ooze into the vial. No worries about the Hep A. I still say you don't really need it, unless immigration won't let you into the country without proof of vaccination. The tetanus one, however, well.... I won't guarantee the same.