"Maybe I shouldn't travel," I proposed, glancing in the opposite direction of my bared left arm...the arm across which I could even now feel a cool, moist cotton ball sliding. This was it. Years of existence, months of planning for Uganda and weeks of planning for Mexico had accumulated to bring me to this point. A needlepoint.
"Which hand do you use to write?" here came the voice of the nurse.
"Left," I responded.
Oh yeah. It's not that I have a phobia of needles, per say. I usually prefer to be troubled over more dramatic evils like gore and brutality. However, I DO NOT RELISH the concept of sharp, foreign objects (much less disease-instigating ones) plunging through my flesh. Was the glorious high adventure of travel worth the clinical maliciousness of the Hepatitis A vaccine? Talk about 'stepping out of one's comfort zone'--I thought that was for after you were already ON the mission trip! But it too late.
"One, two, three..."
...It was over? How anticlimactic! Here I had gotten all excited imagining this to be more of an adventure than feeling something like a fishing line enter my arm. Although certainly relieving, it disappointed heroism. I had little time to contemplate the matter, however, before the next needle punctured that same arm. Ooooh.
Again I encountered the novel, almost pleasant sensation of the hair-like needle traversing the deeper layers of my tissue. "That's actually kind of nice," I said. Turning to my mom, I then demonstrated how to operate the camera on my phone--may as well have something to remember the occasion by, I figured. But when I looked back at the nurse, she was poised with a needle at my other arm.
Ouch! The third puncture was decidedly more needle-like than the first two.
Ouch! The third puncture was decidedly more needle-like than the first two.
"That was a good picture," my mom looked at me over the camera, "there's plenty of blood in it."
Charming.
Ouch! I closed my eyes for needle number four and grimaced just as needled patients are supposed to.
"Oh, this one will burn," the nurse said, "there it goes..."
Ha! I eventually opened one eye, then the other. Mom handed me my phone. As I reviewed the emotional pictures of the ordeal, I felt the relieving presence of a cotton ball and medical tape being pressed over either arm. It was finally over. My system now carried eight brand new types of diseases. I exhaled contentedly.
"...And we'll see you next month for more vaccinations, followed by another series next spring," someone was saying.
Oh no.
*Sigh. Well, for now, I should just take some Tylenol and see if I can't ward off this dull ache in my arms before moving on to the next one. Also, I may as well use the time to get to know the eight new viruses I've been introduced to today. But first, a few things to draw from this little experience:
1. "He who suffers most suffers before it is necessary." The anticipation is just about the worst part of a blood test or vaccination...that point of no return when the nurse is flicking the air bubbles out of the syringe; when the metal point is gleaming in the fluorescent lights of the clinic... But worrying (although it can make for a good melodrama when it comes to injections) is a pretty bad investment in life. The whole adventure of the Christian life is after all trust, and relying on God and God alone when the facing the point (no pun intended) of no return--having nothing but God to carry you through something. (This applies to the big stuff as well as the "finer points" like needles.)
2. Short-term pain, as the saying goes, is definitely more than worth the long-term gain. Also, by the time you reach the "gain," the "pain" will likely be quite irrelevant.
3. Next time you go for a vaccine--or a blood test or wisdom teeth extraction--by all means take pictures ;) We can get a whole web album going and swap sob stories.
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