Flu season…such a wonderful time of year. The other day, we received this notice from the school district informing us that flu season has started later than anticipated and it could be active through May. Oh joy. Can I blame Punxsutawney Phil for this, too?
This means getting a flu shot, which I don’t usually do, primarily because the last two times I received flu shots, I became flu-ridden. Call it coincidence, call it superstition, call it stupidity…whatever the case, I’m not getting a flu shot. I’m cursed, I just know it. There’s no use in trying to reason with me.
Of course, this same logic does not apply to my daughter. Granted, she’s never contracted the flu during those seasons when she received the shot, so the curse is not hereditary.
Frankly, I think it’s due to the banshee-like reaction she has to needles. Last year’s shot proved to be a rather traumatic experience for both of us. The nurse and I did everything from bargain to threaten to trick her into willingly getting poked by the needle, but to no avail. I’m certain that the blood-curdling screams of terror she bellowed must have petrified all the other height-challenged patients in the pediatrician’s office.
As a result of all this pandemonium, we resorted to very drastic measures to get the shot into her arm. I bear-hugged my thrashing child while the nurse stabbed her arm with the vaccine needle. The first thing that came to mind was that infamous adrenaline shot scene in Tarantino’s Pulp Fiction film, but in reverse. She let out a few whimpering sobs, repeatedly shouted, “Ow! Ow! Ow!” and finally relented to a peaceful calm.
Fortunately for me, my wife has taken it upon herself to accompany Madison to the doctor’s next week for this annual adventure. Yeah, I’m a chicken…what of it?
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