Matsui and Needles

So, the Phillies lost game 2 of the World Series tonight.

It sucked. And I may (or may not) have thrown something at the television.

After all of that, I have one question.

How the fuck did Matsui hit that?! I mean, Jesus. It was so far out of the normal swing of things. Telekinesis, I say. Tele-fucking-kinesis.




Ugh. Ok. Now that I've got that out of my system....

I got my test results back from the lab today.

Positive for H1N1. Thank you test lab - it's so helpful for me to know a week and a half after contracting said disease that I have it.

Thank God my doctor isn't a nincompoop. She put me on the Tamiflu as soon as I complained, and it took care of me pretty damned well. I'm all better now! (mostly. If you ignore the hacking) So really, the test results do me no good at this point in time.

Well, that's not true. At least now I know I don't have to get the damned vaccine.

I have a *small* fear of needles. That is to say...I hate them. With an undying passion. You see, when I was a small lass (and by small I mean twelve) I had to get allergy shots.

I actually was ok with them...for a bit. And then the dumbass doctor kept on increasing the dosages - because they had to desensitize me. Ok, that's fine, I can get down with that.

And then he switched nurses. The new nurse (who, I'm pretty sure, was related to Hitler) never warmed up the fluid - she just injected it into me straight from the freezer.

Uh...OW? Bitch didn't give me a sticker either.

But ok, I can deal with that. It burned, but I kept telling myself that it was all for the greater, allergy-free, good.

They upped the dosages too high. On more than one occasion I broke out in hives as a result of the injections. And then they would decrease the dosage...and then start raising it back up. And then the hives would start again. Big, angry welts that were huge. That, coupled with the frozenness of it all....Well. It was all for the greater good, right?

Who cares if I left the office in tears because my arms WERE FUCKING BURNING LIKE HELL as the ice-cold liquid traveled through my veins. It was ok, because we were doing something, people! And for those of you who are thinking that it's just my 12 year old brain blowing things out of proportion, I promise you, it's not.

My mother (you don't mess with Mama-bear) interrogated questioned the nurses on more than one occasion about the welts on my arms. She also didn't understand why a child who was as hardheaded resilient as me would cry over something so trivial as an injection. I had never cried before for any other injections, after all.

They waved off her concerns and told her it was all for the eventual betterment of my "condition." (Ok...it's an allergy. It's actually a *lot* of allergies. I'd list them, but I don't want to put you to sleep. Just trust me on this)

It was like that once a week (one injection per arm) for two years. And then the dumbass allergist came up to me, and pronounced that the shots really weren't doing any good, and we should stop.

Uh. WHAT? Two years I endured that, and he couldn't have informed me of this sooner?

Oh, I was ticked. The experience has left me a bit...bitter.

So now I don't like needles. At all.

We're talking heeby-jeebies. I'm not as bad as some people (for instance, I don't scream and cry and moan about how aweful getting a needle is every time I see one), but if there's a way for me to avoid it, then you're damn sure I'll be exploring that option.

And before all ya'll start thinking that I purposefully contracted H1N1, think again. Even I'm not that crazy.