The Great Adventure: Episode 2

I hate needles.

Don't get me wrong -- I don't faint when I get injections. It isn't even a question of pain. In most cases, the sensation of a needle piercing skin is no more annoying than a pinch or an insect bite, just like the nurses always say it will be. It's just that I do not like the concept of anything breaching the outer dermal wall of defences that protect my innards. That's why I cannot watch horror movies that involve blades.

All of which brings a delightful irony to my decision to do volunteer work in Tanzania. You see, in volunteering I have committed myself to be poked and pierced repeatedly as I seek to inoculate myself against a host of really nasty diseases. The alternatives, of course, are either to risk serious illness or death or to simply not go. I want to go, so I'm getting used to injections.

I have already had three sets of injections, most recently yesterday. I have had two rabies shots (one more to go), a hepatitis A/B shot (one more to get before the trip, another after), and shots for typhoid, diphtheria, and meningitis. I have an appointment next week with a travel clinic to learn if I need a shot for yellow fever. Thank heavens I was already covered for tetanus and polio a few years back.

And then there is the whole question of malaria. One of the reasons I am going to the travel clinic is to find out the appropriate medication to take, since there are three possible choices. I am not a doctor, but I sure hope that I don't have to take the medication whose major side effect is "night terror". I suspect that regular screaming emanating from my bedroom will have a rather negative impact on my relations with the children.