Calamity Jane's Adversion to the H1N1 Shot (all shots)

I. Hate. Shots!  

Don't think my body likes them and my brain hates them, but my imagination goes wild with them.  I read too many murder mysteries.   When someone mentions that I have to have a shot I'm like a cat that can go from sleeping peacefully to bolting out the door at the bark of a dog.  The dogs name is Shot. 

Which brings me to sharing with you that I have heel spurs on both heels of my feet that give me great ache and pain depending on how long I stand or walk or basically, how long I'm on my feet.  If the answer to that measure is a lot then the pain level is equal by 5pm every day.  I took it upon myself to see if there was some way around this foot-draggin problem so I went to see a podiatrist. 

He was a nice enough guy I guess.  Basic generic Doc in a lab coat.  The night before I had been making these severed finger cookies for a Halloween Party so I had red food dye all over my fingers that wouldn't come off around the cuticles and fingertips too well.  I was also reading the book Scarpeta by Patricia Cornwell which has a silver cover with bullit shots through it and blood dripping down it.  So when the Doc came in I put the book in my lap to begin the analysis of the feet.  As he was checking he looked up at me and gasped saying "you're bleeding!"  I was pretty surpised at that so I said where? and he said "your hands". After looking at them I began to laugh telling him I was making severed finger cookies the night before... blah, blah, blah.  He looked at me and then went back to the investigation of my heels.  I was thinking to myself that NO ONE here in Florida has a sense of humor.  They take every little thing like you say.  I really miss Californians who have learned to laugh even when they get the Terminator for Governor.

After several moments of pushing and prodding he started to fill up a needle with a cocktail of 3 different drugs.  I calmly asked what he was doing and he said he was going to give me a shot in each foot.  I blanched, fought back my cat like reflex to bolt, and asked if it would hurt?  He then showed me the summation of Floridian humor by replying "It won't hurt me a bit."   

In return, I passed on a new lesson in CA humor by telling him that if it did hurt I was sure he would feel it!  We shared that glance known to Gladiators before facing the lions.  They just don't get humor here.

Well, the shot did hurt.  In fact, I thought I was going to die right on that chair.  I am certain that as my face grew as red as my fingers he got alarmed, then when I suddenly grabbed my purse off the floor and started digging through it vigorously  maniacally, he stuttered out "what are you looking for?" I could barely breath (he was also reminding me to do just that while calling the nurse to get me a cold compress) so I couldn't talk very good without breath and just popped out my little Mona Lisa fan from Italy that my dearest Cousin Guy got me and I said "my fan." 

I was too agitated hyperventilating to figure out that I think he reconsidered the severed finger thing and blood on the book and my earlier comment and probably thought I was reaching for a gun or machete to educate him on pain. 

On a plus note, I believe my right foot had a spontaneous healing from the fear that it too would recieve a shot.  Doc agreed that we wouldn't mess with the right foot. 

Quote of the Day:  We're young only once, but with humor, we can be immature forever.  Art Gliner.

Interesting factoid:  The telephone has been one of the most profitable inventions in the history of the United States.  But you don't have to call me, just leave a comment on the blog.  It's easier.