Or this post could be titled:
How I Was Banned from Convenient Care
I love my parents to death, but some days I suspect they may be the death of me, especially on a Friday turned Monday. After many phone calls from the Drama Llamas, I started having bouts of paranoia coupled with night sweats and dreams of men in white lab coats sawing off my leg.
So in an effort to put their minds at ease and stave off paranoia for at least another five to ten years, I went to the doctors for a Tetanus shot.
You see a long, long time ago, back when dirt made the world go round and antibacterial soap was only a dream for the Howard Hughes types of this world, my father contracted Tetanus. Since I was baby, I have no recollection, otherwise I would be appropriately traumatized and forever paranoid of falling through heating vents and slicing open my shin.
My parents, however, remember. I’m sure it was terrible for them, and I’m glad my father lived to tell the tale. Now they are on a mission to properly immunize the known world against Tetanus, cuts, bruises, scrapes, and most unfortunate events. I appreciate their concern. I really do. It’s nice to be loved.
I took the warm fuzzy feeling of care with me to the doctors this morning. I sat on an exam table before eight o’clock in the morning and prior to coffee while the kind doctor wondered at my clumsiness.
Then she said the words I wish I could have recorded for my parents. I thought about getting everyone on a Skype conference call, but the doctor seemed busy.
“This isn’t really the type of injury we give Tetanus shots for, but we’ll make your parents feel better. Besides, with kids like yours, you should be prepared for the unexpected.”
Truer words were never spoken.
She left to send the nurse back with the shot and a prescription for some swish and swallow medicine that kills thrush. My throat is full of white patches from my steroid inhaler, but that’s another story in the Chronicles of a Hypochondriac.
When the nurse arrived, she had a nice big shot I hoped was for my arm and not my hiney, but I wasn’t about to complain at this point. Then she said it’s a DTaP. Like I’ll be immune to Pertussis afterward. I have no idea what part of the body Pertussis attacks, but I was pretty sure my leg was not in danger, and I was doubly sure I was allergic to that vaccine.
You see, I’m not immunized for most things, because I am allergic to the vaccines, so I count on everyone else to get vaccinated and keep me healthy, but this isn’t a vaccination debate, I won’t go there.
Disclaimer: If you don’t vaccinate your kids, it’s your choice and I’m not getting ugly with you. I’m just saying I’m glad certain diseases have been eradicated. Don’t hate me please.
So the nurse went in search of another shot. I think I may have turned the office a bit upside down and I am SO BLASTED SORRY for that. I know I don’t like curve balls before breakfast, but I also wasn’t keen on spending the weekend in the hospital. You know?
At that point I did what every grown adult does, I called my mother to see just how allergic I was to this shot and if I could maybe risk it. Three phone calls, two nurses, and no shots later, I left with the risk of Tetanus and my parents phone calls looming over my head.
I’m pretty sure Convenient Care never wants to see me again. High Maintenance is stamped across my chart and the Drama Llamas will be looming near for the next 7-21 days.
Are we sure today is Friday and not Monday?
Mom & Dad, I love you. Thank you for your concern. I call you Drama Llamas in the most loving way possible. This video by your granddaughter describes the many types of Llamas, of which you are one, or two.