I don’t know if I need to mention my fear of needles again but here goes.

 
Yesterday, I set out to get a flu shot because I am a grown up and “I can do this” and I don’t want to get the flu or Ebola.

 
I met K.C. the pharmacist at his office, the centre portion of the grocery store where I shop regularly. After some pre-needle foreplay, I mentioned (casually) how I have been known to faint when I get a needle and I breezily put it out there that I may need to sit for a while afterwards before picking up some produce two aisles over lest I vomit and/or collapse in the meat aisle.

 
K.C. and I bonded in that moment and he assured me this was a simple shot and confided, “The needles I use are only one inch, others have been known to use 1.5 inch long ones.”

 
This is information K.C. (if he knew me at all) would know in either scenario sounded like several inches too long.

 
I didn’t look at the needle, I took a deep breath and I let K.C. have his way with me while I noted “Boost” shakes were heavily discounted about four feet directly in front of me.

 
And then, everything felt fine. When he asked me to put pressure on the Band-Aid, I pressed so hard my fingerprints are perfectly bruised over the wound. But I did it.
I was so proud in fact, I texted Greg right away, “Hi Sweetie! You’ll be so proud of me. I got my flu shot. Home in ten minutes.”

 
But just as I hit “send” on my braggy text, something happened.

 
I felt a wave of nausea and the blood seemed to flush out of my body starting at my head.

 
I called out, “K.C. if you can hear me, I am feeling really dizzy right now my friend.”
Then I heard, “Bernice, can you go and help this woman?” and then over the loud speaker, “Call for flowers on line 7.”

 
Names have not been changed to protect K.C. and Bernice. They were wonderful and I am going to call them out publicly for their service to their community and especially, to their grocery store.

 
Bernice had me bend forward so my head was dangling between my knees and she put a cold cloth on the back of my neck which was quickly buried under what I can only describe as a giant, sweat-nest of hair.

 
“Whatever you do Bernice, never move that cloth, okay?”

 
Bernice then started strategically placing ice packs all over my back to bring my temperature down.

 
I heard my phone chime, it was Greg responding, “Good for you! A great start to the day.”

 
I could hardly read, trying to swallow air to prevent vomiting.”

 
K.C. called out, “Ma’am, do you want me to call your husband?”

 
Put the God damn phone down K.C.! I just told him how awesome I am for getting this shot and now I’m doubled over dripping sweat all over the carpet in here.

 
In retrospect, here are a few things I could have done better.

 
1. I could have given more thought to the underwear I was wearing yesterday. I had no idea I was going to be bending so far forward that my Hanes Her Ways riding just below scapula height would be in plain view for anyone perusing the organic section.

 
2. I could have worn a longer t-shirt which would have achieved the same goal and saved me $7 in underwear.

 
3. I could have written a fake phone number for Greg as my Emergency contact on the form on the off chance K.C. decided to over-ride my plea and attempt to call him anyway.

 
I’ll file those ideas away for next year.

 
In the meantime, I’ll be shopping for a new grocery store.