Medical professionals are out to stab me. With needles. Frequently.

Lately this has been to put something in rather than take something out. (I have given liters of blood to the labs over the past year or so: testing, testing, testing to see which levels say what; where my danger levels locate; whether organs lie fallow or functional.) Vaccinations are in season. Hepatitis B is at the top of the list.

I received shot number two, booster number one, on Friday. I didn’t think much of it at the time: a little prick, a little pain, a band-aid. I was in and out of the clinic in minutes. But then I was at a workshop yesterday and was almost involuntarily nulled right out of consciousness during the lecture, and on my way home felt like crying from the effort it took to place one foot in front of the other.

What is wrong with me? I wondered, and started to feel a little alarmed.

You’ve been shot with a virus, I suddenly recalled. Deliberately. Inert it comes; inert it stays; and your body works around it: antibodies, with any luck, abound. I’ve gotten very little done today. And isn’t it nice to have a working immune system—along with trying to stay awake while it works me right out of commission.

Won’t H1N1 be fun.



~ by A Mundi on October 18, 2009.

One Response to “shots”

  1. I hate needles, but they are a part of life for both of us. I have been debating the next shot coming for I see my doc on Wednesday this week. Got to be careful with what they shoot into you. I err on the side of caution not to introduce anything that my immune system might have a problem combating. I don’t know about H1N1, I will have to speak to doc about that one.


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