3.03.2007

Stab Me, I Am Army Strong!

So today I had oh so much fun chilling out at the motor pool, playing with my Stryker with its bird cage full body halo, checking it for deficiencies, and then dispatching it for near future use. Totally awesome, and I mean that in the MOST mundane sense.

Then I went to Hooters and ate lunch and it was mediocre, and the waitresses pretended to care that we breathed so that I would give them a three dollar tip.

The action continues!

Then we went to a series of buildings, where we did the psych eval, and got me some injections. That's right, ladies and gentlewomen, I enjoyed a nice dose of small pox first. But let me back up a little bit.

It starts off with a little paperwork. And a lot of sitting and waiting. And plenty of watching The Best Of Chris Farley a la Saturday Night Live. We L.O.L.ed our way to bliss as we counted the hour or so away. Then we moved to the next waiting room, and received a briefing. All I gathered from it is:

Though you are still somewhat contagious, should you touch the injection site, or should someone else touch it (if you are dumb enough NOT to keep a bandaid on it) you can still have intimate relations. What I heard was, "Keep the damn thing covered and leave it alone, and don't let her or any other numbnuts touch it, and you're clear to go at it like stoned test bunnies."

By the way, my mom reads this.

So after a LOT more waiting, and a line that followed the design of musical chairs, I was finally able to answer a gauntlet of questions, then get a quick vision test. Thanks to a couple lucky guesses, I qualified as 20/20, regardless of my estigmatism or whatever. Go down the hall and get stabbed.

I hand my paperwork off to another desk person and get another brief. Same shit, different toilet. I expose my skinny little girl arm, to be martyred in the name of vaccination. We get injected with so many biohazards it seems, that its like clockwork. My turn comes up and I sit down in the chair. I watch as the weird needle object is dabbed against my arm. There is NO pinprick feeling whatsoever.

"What? Well then what does it feel like?"

Take your finger, and poke your upper arm a few times, as if trying to get your own attention. That was it. I seriously wondered if she even penetrated my skin. By then, she's covering her work with a band-aid.

Well holy sheepshit, that was easy. Next is the other shot. What other shot?

THE ANTHRAX SHOT.

Thats right, remember that big scare, with all the letters coming from Trenton, NJ? With the white powder? And everyone shit their pants? It was the anthrax. Not the band, the crazy disease. And now its time for them to inject that crazy crap into my body. WHOOO!

The sergeant (E5) giving the stabbings is a bigger dude with a raspy voice. Reminded me slightly of Henry Rollins. I sit down.

"Ok, sergeant, I promise to try my best not to cry."

"Good. I promise to do my best not to cry either. If they see us crying together, it might be bad. Brokeback Washington."

I laugh. This guy is totally ok in my book.

He asks me the usual stereotypical question as he readies his disease ridden needle (at this point, I couldnt give a shit less about needles, pretty used to them). "Where are you from originally?"

My automatic reply, "Montana."

"No shit? Where in Montana?"

I respond with my home town, then mention that I've lived in a couple places around the state.

He retorts with, "Well that's pretty ironic."

Waiting to hear some inconsequential remark about some town I never even visited, I ask, "Why's that?"

"Cuz I don't know SHIT about Montana." The needle hits me in the arm and the post 9/11 terror disease becomes one with my lanky body. I laugh. I kind of saw that one coming. He instructs me to stretch my arm out and all that, maybe do pushups, massage it, keep it loose. I feel nothing at this point, but have heard enough to listen up.

Thirty seconds later, the spot he shot up starts to burn. Forty seconds later, I feel a charlie horse announce its presence. I tuck my shirt back in and throw my ACU top back on. Thats it for shots, I already have the hepatitis alphabet, typhoid, flu, other shit that I never bothered to remember, tuberculosis, the works. I'm pretty much immune to everything except for the common cold, which finds me every three to four months. Funny how that works.

Tomorrow, my arm should be thoroughly cramped and sore, from what I've heard. Yippety doo. I also have to work. Doing stuff.

WATCH "STRANGER THAN FICTION", ITS THE AWESOME WITH A CAPITAL HELL YEAH.

1 Comment:

  1. julie anna said...
    When my husband got the second anthrax shot, the whole side of his neck swelled and the lymph nodes near his throat swelled up till they spewed nasty stuff. Of course we found out later that it was recorded in his medical records as an ingrown hair, but that he is never to have the shot again. Oh, yes, I love the Army!

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