Inject a little drama

I registered with a new doctor today so I could get my jabs. The nurse was very nice indeed and pushed her anti-smoking clinic harder than the herb (literally, as in parsley: I don't slang) dealers in Camden sell their fake wares. Sadly, I don't have the time to attend. I want to give up, but am told I'll love particularly love Japan as it's £1.50 a packet there: what sort of a person loves a country for that?

From an extensive vaccination menu, I'm going for Japanese Encephalitis, Hepatitis B and tetanus. The Nippon mosquitoes are bound to love my blood as much as their European cousins so I need to stave off that potentially fatal viral brain infection if I can help it. I may also be bitten by my youthful (and obviously infected) charges, so Hep B and tetanus are a must. Actually, they're not, but if I head to China to see Lizzy or Taiwan to see Karen, I'll definitely need them (I hear they're rabid peoples) and the Japanese health service is far more costly than our dear, yet inexpensive, NHS.

I've discovered, while just providing a thimbleful of blood for a sample, that I am becoming apprehensive about needles. I'm not scared as such, but I do tense up more in anticipation than I used to and so it hurts more because my muscles aren't relaxed. The feeling of the needle being in my vein makes me feel a bit sick too, especially when the nurse knocks it and I can feel it bang against the inside wall: just typing this is nauseating! Hopefully I will overcome this during the seven injections I'm having or not have such a heavy-handed nurse.

It's not the worst feeling in the world, I think I can still volunteer my veins in the name of science and blood donoring. However, this week I was asked to consider what my Room 101 is. It would definitely involve the Bedingfields and Pink Floyd on constant loop. I would have also said Dido, but that just might put me to sleep which really isn't in the spirit of things. You can't sleep through the horror of your Room 101, especially when sleep deprivation is such a reliable form of torture. Food deprivation would be high on my phobic list too. Watching someone smug linger over a superior dinner while I'm left with a plate of celery and mushrooms would just kill me.

Today I also checked out some other blogs to see what's out there. Very little in the way of entertaining reads, it would seem. I did find one vile posting though - a site dedicated to helping married people affair (or, as the poster flippantly calls it, 'fool around'). I wouldn't ordinarily post a comment on someone else's blog, but couldn't restrain myself from pointing out what a horrid concept the whole thing was. I may see about getting the webmaster to shut him down, but have to dash to join my right-wing Christian book group right now...