I Hate Shots

11 March 2017

I really hate shots . . . with a passion . . . because they're given by needles . . . needles freak me out!

My fear of needles can be traced back to a very specific moment in time though . . . and my fear is justifiable!

Dad got orders to ship out to Spain in late 1969, so Mom spent the next several months preparing us to move. The moving part . . . in my 5 year old world . . . was no big deal. I helped pack my toys in boxes, but Mom and Dad handled the rest of it, so I wasn't bothered by it at all.

One of the big things you have to do before traveling overseas is to check the immunization requirements for the country (or countries) to which you're heading. While the US has eradicated most diseases known to mankind through immunizing kids, many countries are still plagued by diseases such as Polio and Typhoid. We also have clean drinking water, and the FDA tries its best to keep our foods free of contamination.

Don't get me started on the movement NOT to immunize!!

So, in light of the fact that we were heading to a foreign country, we had to get a series of shots. I don't remember what we were being immunized against . . . doesn't matter . . . but I do recall one of our visits to the medical clinic involved 2 or 3 shots!!!!

While we were hanging out in the waiting room, I bravely announced I would go first since my sister was whining about getting a shot. "You'll see . . . it won't hurt!" were probably my words of comfort to her. When our names were called, I nearly sprinted in . . . just to show here there was nothing to be afraid of . . . after all, I was twice her size . . . and lion brave!!

The medic laid out all of the syringes necessary . . . in groups of 3 . . . one set for me, one for my sister, and one for my mom. I rolled up my sleeve and prepared. I even grinned at my little sister who was hiding behind my mom . . . likely watching in horror.

I was unprepared for the pain of that first needle striking bone . . .

. . . unprepared for the words that came from the medic's mouth . . .

. . . "Oh, wait! That's the ADULT needle" . . . 

He promptly withdrew that gigantic needle from my arm, picked up and jabbed the child sized needle into the same spot . . . injecting the medicine.

That's when the wailing started! He hit the freaking bone . . . with a needle . . . I was unprepared for the agony!

I shrunk in terror as he picked up the next shots and jammed those into my arm . . . those Navy medics aren't well-known for their bedside manner!

After he was done, we all walked back out of the clinic . . . me in tears . . . my mom and sister . . . LITTLE sister . . . with dry eyes!

And now, any time I have to get a shot, that moment floods back into my head . . . my arm begins to ache . . . I tense up . . . and it hurts! I'd much rather get the shot in my behind . . . at least there's more muscle down there!!