Last week I took my eldest three for flu shots (the two little ones will have theirs at their one and three year check ups, and, call me a wimp, I couldn’t quite get my head around taking all five for shots.) I called our pediatrician and was told that every third Wednesday, if it’s raining, and Jupiter is in retrograde, there is a fifteen minute flu shot clinic. Yup. So, I asked around and found a clinic near the kids’ school. I called. They had flu mist. I took B, E, and F, and my mother who happened to be visiting.
Turns out, they had no mist (the nasal spray vaccination), only shots. Big shock: Bennett is shot-phobic and bolts out the clinic, running down the block. One down. After an eternity of questions and forms they usher us in to a room where they ask us more questions. Then a doctor comes in to watch the nurse give us shots. I go first, to show them all how painless it is.
But it hurt like hell. I pretended otherwise. Bennett resurfaced and refused to go, so Efram threw himself under the bus for all of us. Turns out, he’s not as good as masking his pain. He yelps, cries, and cringes through what feels like an eternity of a shot. At this point the doctor starts to ask me where we live, and whether or not we have a pediatrician. I can’t believe he has the nerve to hit me up for business while his incompetent nurse is torturing my favorite child. All the kids are crying. I stutter a response, grab the kids, and bolt. The clinic staff calls out after me, yelling something about not charging me because of the mix-up.
After I calm the kids down, promised them the moon, I call our pediatrician, speak to his nurse, and get squeezed in for later in the day.
The kids went back to school this morning after two weeks of vacation for the onslaught of Jewish holidays. I’m sure in time that my skin will clear up and that the nervous twitch I seem to have developed will also subside… but for now, I have a mountain of work through which I must wade, and some peace and quiet to relish.