shots shots shots shots

I hate shots. Not the kind that LMFAO jams about cause I can handle them just fine. But the kind of shots that go in your arm are a whole other story. Whoever decided that the best way to administer medicine was by jamming needles into people's arms had a real twisted sense of humor. When I was younger if anyone so much as mentioned the word shot in my presence tears would just start rolling down my cheeks. And all the promises of stickers and lollipops did nothing to stem their flow or stop my screaming. Yep, I put on such great performances that I always left the doctor's office with the most colorful Band-Aids, a handful of stickers and pockets overflowing with candy.

But when you are twenty-one and have just graduated College tears are simply not allowed when you are given a shot. And no one is going to offer you 'good shot' rewards afterwards either. So when I walked into the Williamsburg Travel Clinic I was more than a little apprehensive about what I was walking in to.

Upon entering the door I was greeted by a little old lady and handed a clip board with just one sheet of paper on it. One sheet! Can you believe that? At most doctor's offices I've been ordered to write a small book before anyone would even look at me. Then, after writing said book, I am used to getting shunted into a room that is often painfully decorated and told, "The nurse will be right in." Yeah, right. Thirty minutes later when the nurse finally graces me with her presence, she sits down in front of me and begins asking the same questions, which, had she bothered to read my recent book, she would know all the answers to. But no, the nurse prefers to hear the answers straigth from my mouth and scribble them down in her own illegible handwriting for the doctor. Then after another stretch of waiting, Dr. I Don't Need to Read I Have Minions to Do That For Me, comes in and asks all of the same questions again.

But at the travel clinic, I was pleasently suprised. I filled out my one form in just two minutes, handed it to Dr. Nikki, and watched as she actually read and retained the information written on it! Then Dr. Nikki invited me into her office and got straight to business. No waiting. No shuffling through boring magazines. And none of those annoying personal questions about may life that all doctor's feel entitled to ask. My personal favorite of those is the, "So, do you have a boyfriend?" When I say no, there's the abrupt "Oh..." followed by nervous laughter. Sometimes I like to mess with the doctors. "Well my girlfriend's name is Suzie and she's great." That always evokes some fantastic reactions. Or there's the, "why don't you ask your wife?" Just kidding, I've never actually said those things outloud... but I've thought about it.

But Dr. Nikki did none of that routine crap. Instead she gave me a glass of water and some cookies to munch on while she told me all about the various diseases that are a problem in different parts of Africa. We then poured over my immunization records and she gave me tons of information about general health practices while in Africa. I learned about the preferred malaria medications, was told that if I couldn't peel a fruit or vegetable then I shouldn't eat it, and was given a 72-page document full of health information for all of southern and central Africa. She also made me show her how I wash my hands. I got an A-plus on hand washing.

And then came the shots. Four of them. Hepatitis A and polio (which unfortunately does still exist in Africa and eastern Europe) in my right arm. Yellow fever and typhoid in my left. It was grueling. Before each shot Nikki swabbed my slightly sunburnt arms with rubbing alcohol using a surprising amount fo strength for a woman who is probably pushing 70. Then there was the slight 'pressure' that came with each shot. And yellow fever carried a nasty sting with it too. But I made it. I didn't shed a single tear and it took less than two minutes for all four shots. Best doctor's visit ever. Nikki wished me luck, gave me a hug (she was a hugger), and sent me on my way. As I left the doctor's office I made two decisions; first, maybe shots (and doctors) really aren't that bad, and second, my display of true grit meritted a reward. I went to McDonald's and ordered an M&M McFlurry and it was so much better than lollipops and stickers ever were.