A Shot in the Arm

And another. And another. And another.

Last week we had our consultation at the county health clinic to determine what shots we would need for the part of the world we would be visiting. Because I am a pastor with a congregation, the consultation fee was waived. That was not only painless, it felt pretty good.

Then we were given leaflets and brochures loaded with tips for safe travel. Here is one such tip, this one regarding food: “Cook It… Boil It… Peel It…or FORGET IT!”

Apparently, a main concern where we are headed is malaria. For that we will be taking some pills. A small boatload of pills. Then came the shots. Something for typhoid. A polio booster. And hepatitis shots.

The flu shots I received the following day at my family doctor. There was a call to some special number to make sure we could be given certain shots together. All clear. “You have really tough skin,” the nurse told me as she prepared to stick me. “I was involved in journalism for quite a few years,” I told her. And then the needle broke.

I had already received my tetanus shot in ‘07, so would not need one of those. How disappointing.

But there are a few more shots to go – and quite a few more pills.

And then there was the bill.

That was really the only shot that hurt.