Went for a regular check-up this morning with my doctor. It took six months to get an appointment for a regular check-up. Yes, six months. So much for finding a doctor that I like. It’s impossible to get in! I half expected the receptionist to say “Oh no, the doctor isn’t in today. Didn’t you get the message?” Such has been my luck with the dentist lately.
But she was there. And it was a boring regular check-up. Except on the way out….when the Dr.’s assistant asked me the most dreaded of all dreaded questions you can possibly be asked in the doctor’s office: “When was your last tetanus shot?”
Frack. I almost made it out the door without that one. And drat, though I don’t remember the exact date, I’m pretty sure it’s been 10 years since my last shot. Which I reluctantly admitted to the assistant. Who then ordered me back into another exam room. A very whiney, sniffling, protesting me.
“But those huuuurrrrrrtttt!” I moaned.
No sympathy. She left me in the room and went for the shot. I thought about bolting out the door, but there were too many twisting hallways on the way back to the lobby. I figured I’d get caught before I made it out. I tried to take deep breaths, thinking that someone once told me the shot hurts more if your muscles are tense. Zen moment. Zen moment. She came back in.
“Ow.” I said.
Just practicing.
She handed me the paper explaining the shot. Which was actually a combo shot. I whined a little more. “I thought only kids and adolescents have to get the combo shooaaattt.” I sighed. No sympathy. She just looked at me and said “Do you not want it?”
HECK NO, I don’t want it! But I didn’t refuse. I just pretended to read the handout for a couple of minutes, delaying the inevitable.
“OK” I mumbled.
*thunk!*
In went the needle. Zen moment. Relax muscle. Think nice thoughts.
“Thanks,” I whispered, as she let me leave the office.
Ooooowwwww! It hurts! My arm hurts! It hurts!
I am writing down the date of this shot. One nurse told me to write it down on the back of my driver’s license to keep track. Maybe I’ll just use this blog as proof. Yup! Got the shot! Leave me alone!
I hate these things. I don’t know what happened to my pain-tolerance level. It used to be fairly robust when I was younger. I have grown wimpy in my olding age. *sigh* We’ll just see if I ever go see a doctor again!
Stone Girl's Blog 
Heat and massage – no ice. Those hurt like a mother!
Wimp.
Just kidding, I have a very high pain tolerance -except with needles. I faint when doctors give me needles. In Univeristy, when I was 240lbs, I had to get blood taken, and I told the doctor it was best if they lay me down to do it. He laughed and jabbed the needle in. It took the doctor and 2 nurses to pick me up off the floor. Why don’t doctors ever listen?
*tries to think of something witty to say, but then gives up and wanders off*
Saturn: Just forget I mentioned needles. I’m surprised you didn’t faint!
Thanks Trisha! I thought maybe a dozen margaritas would help, but I’ll try and keep the ice off my arm.
Harm: I am a pain wimp. But not a needle wimp. I donate blood regularly. But I sympathize with the woozy. I was donating at college once and was across the aisle from a big (cute too) guy who looked very apprehensive. I told him “It will be ok” and “you can’t feel the needle when it’s in!” He passed out. When he came to – he yelled at his buddy who had brought him to the blood drive “I hate you!” Then he looked across the aisle at me and said “And I hate you too!”
Mostly he was just kidding, but I figured my chances of asking him out were shot.
This should tell you exactly how much I love you, that I read this entry all the way through. I did have to go drink a beer after I finished, but I read it, gol-durn it!
Merlin’s Beard!
Zeus’ Toast!