59- Flu Shot

I’m a hypochondriac. I try not to be, but sometimes my paranoia gets the best of me. If I get a bad headache, I worry that maybe it is early signs of an aneurism. If I have a stomach ache, I find myself wondering if my appendix is about to burst. Silly little things like that… I always tell myself I’m being ridiculous, but that doesn’t stop me from worrying.
I also hate needles. I can’t look at them without feeling faint and a little nauseated. Last time a doctor had to take my blood, I cried-- and I was twenty- two years old at the time. Blood makes me sick, needles make me dizzy, and I’m a hypochondriac. I’m sure I would be terrible in an emergency.
Today I had to get the flu shot. I have agonized for weeks over this shot. At first I wasn’t going to get it at all, but then Caroline convinced me that getting sick with the flu could ruin my monthly 3-day weekend vacation plan. I agreed that it was time for me to act like a grown up. After school today, I marched myself down to the theater stage (where they were administering shots) and waited in line.
I purposely looked away, so that I could not see the other teachers getting their shots. One by one, they would get a flu shot and then be on their way. It appeared to be a piece of cake and I was doing a great job of staying brave. When the nurse called my name, I rushed over to her, smiling. If I could convince her I wasn’t scared, then maybe I could convince myself.
“Is this your first time getting the flu shot, honey?” The woman asked in a twangy country accent. She was fat and blonde and used a lot of hairspray.
“Yes, ma’am.” I answered.
The nurse’s jolly face crinkled into a frown. “Can you eat chicken and eggs?”
“Yes.” With every wrinkle in the nurses’ frown, a bit of courage drained from my body.
“Humph.” She handed me a clipboard full of forms. “Fill out this form and sign this waiver.”
Waiver? My heart started to thud in my chest. Medically thinking, waivers are not a good. “Is everything okay?” I asked. “I don’t really need to get a shot…”
The fat nurse smiled and all of her crinkles smoothed out. She became jolly again and explained to me that because it was my first flu shot, we did not know if I would have an adverse reaction. She went on to relay a horrific list of potential side effects: fever, muscle soreness, difficulty breathing, hoarseness or wheezing, hives, fast heartbeat, dizziness, or swelling of the throat.
“Don’t worry, honey, you’ll do just fine.” Sugar dripped off her poisonous tongue.
I was already experiencing several of the side effects she listed. I stared at the clipboard. The pen fell out of my wet, sweaty hand. I took a deep breath and looked around the room. The faces of my coworkers swam in my blurry vision.
I can’t let them know I’m afraid.
I picked up the pen and signed the waiver. “I’m ready.”
When the nurse had finished stabbing me with her needle, she asked me to wait on a nearby bench for a little while. A little while turned out to be thirty minutes. I watched the clock as each second ticked slowly by.
My throat felt dry, as I waited for it to swell up and block my air passages. My heart raced. I knew, at any minute, that I would be the first teacher to die of the flu shot. I took long, deep breaths, hoping to avoid a bout of panicked wheezing. I wondered if the nurse would be able to save my life.
Was she trained to revive people, or just administer shots? I wanted to ask, but my voice had left.
My muscles felt tight and sore. I had to shut my eyes to avoid passing out.
I suffered from every side effect the nurse had listed.
“Okay, hon.” She waddled her blubbery body over to my bench, pulled up my sleeve, barely glanced in the direction of my arm, and said, “Looks good here. You can go.”
I better not get the damn flu.