Today was Travel Vaccinations for India Day. On the menu, Tetanus/Diptheria and Hepatitis A. Add to that a prescription for an oral Malaria vaccination and Xanax for the flight (I love doctors). Japanese Encephalitis and Typhoid vacs will require a separate visit to a dedicated travel clinic.

While waiting, I applied my best radio voice to enumerate the full range of side effects one could expect from these two shots. Death was not on either list; pain was all but assured. Then I resumed pacing the room, talking, talking, talking. It also seemed like a good time to determine the effect shoes had on one’s overall weight (once with, once without, difference = 1.8 lbs. QED).

Steph shook her head in amazement. “I’ve never seen you act this neurotic.” She laughed as I tried to defend myself. Then the nurse arrived carrying four needles. I don’t mind shots, really. But I do mind pain. I hate pain. Really, what is there to like about pain?

I continued my defense to both of them “Women have a higher threshold for pain. Am I wrong?” The nurse confirmed. I mean, of course they’re going to agree. It’s a compliment. It’s also true.

Tetanus in the left arm. Hep A in the right. I didn’t even feel the shots being administered. I was too busy talking, talking, talking.

“You can sit down, we’re done.”

Steph took her turn. Then I felt a sharp cramp in my right arm.

“It’s in your head” assured the soon-to-be-exhausted-by-her-crazy-patient nurse.

“Then I guess my head is in my right arm” Touché! Score! 1-1. Bronze still in reach.

“I don’t feel anything,” countered Steph. 2-1.

“Oh wait,” She continued. “Yep, there it is” 2-2.

“Mine’s starting to fade. Give it a minute.” And suddenly I was the one consoling others. #stalemate

We drove home asking each other how the other felt. We’re both fine. We’ll be fine.

Cost: $330 for the both of us. Insurance not accepted for vaccinations. To be continued Friday morning, or later tonight when I start writhing in pain.