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Health & Fitness

Man About Town

Conan, Snoop Dogg, Jackie Chan and Me.

I've administrated hundreds of shots for Contra Costa Public Health, but the other day I told the doc readying his needles and scalpels and saws for my eye socket to find another orb location.

But enough about me. For now.

Speaking of needles, some of the most prolific shot-making is going on in our county this month, and El Cerrito teens (and a few adults) are among the folks contributing their deltoids.

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Public Health has been holding free whooping cough shots clinics. And while there isn't one in El Cerrito as yet, El Cerrito teenagers have been dragged to their doctors or nearby public health clinics at  San Pablo City Hall (Wednesdays) and Richmond Health Center (Mondays) for their pricks. 

It's the law, of course. After last year's epidemic of whooping cough cases, the state mandated that kids going into grades 7-12 must show proof that they've had the Tdap Vaccine (combined Tetanus, Diphtheria and Pertussis Vaccines). 

Find out what's happening in El Cerritowith free, real-time updates from Patch.

The law doesn't pertain to me, although I am often accused of acting juvenile.

From the thousands of kids who have gone through our clinics, I can say there were very few trypanophobians — people who are phobic about injections. Conan O'Brien, Snoop Dogg and Jackie Chan are said to be in this category. It's said about 10 percent of a given population is trypanophobic, and there's evidence indicating it's hereditary.

I'm sure trypanophobians go back as far as the earliest documented examples of vaccination. It's believed the first ones came from India and China in the 17th century, where vaccination with powdered scabs from people infected with smallpox was used to protect against the disease.

I saw several kids refuse the injection who may have been trypanophobic. Or was it a way of avoiding school, or extending the summer?

A few kids cried; they held their parent's hand and some took a good 15 minutes before they submitted.

The opposite of trypanophobia? Never saw any needle-obsessed kids. Nobody said, "Thank you, nurse. May I have another?" 

Turns out the shot doesn't even hurt. At least that's what they told me. But needles are needles.  

Watching thousands of kids getting shots, I couldn't help but reminisce about those first needles I faced as a kid. Then the rump was the target and penicillin was the agent. The idea was go after the biggest muscle and they don't get much bigger than the gluteus medius muscle, better known as the "upper buttocks."

There was always that point in the doctor's visit where I'd ask, "Mom, am I going to get a shot?"

And if the answer was yes, I'd let out a wail. Cuz that thing hurt. They'd have to hold me down while I cursed them for their crimes against humanity, their prejudice against helpless youth.

By the way, there are some great places to get the vaccination in Contra Costa County.

One is Todos Santos Plaza in Concord on a Thursday night.  Besides the farmer's market, there's a regular music series.  Fresh fruit/veggies, music and a shot. Last Thursday, the Mt. Diablo School District bussed in kids and I helped nurses Jen I, Jen II, Aliza, and Kathryn Tdap over 400 kids.

Or if shopping is more your thing, swing by Somersville Towne Center in Antioch on Thursdays.  Combine shopping with your kid's  vaccination.  Hit Sears, then swing by the mobile vaccination clinic. 

While I was orchestrating shots in the arm all week, I couldn't help but think about having a shot near my eye.

And it made me a little nervous. I'm not trypanophobic, but I never look at a needle. Which is why my sewing is so bad.

There's the eye of the needle  and then there's the needle in the eye, or at least near it. That's what I was in for. 

A stick in the eye, a biopsy, plastic surgery, stitches.  Simple little procedure. 

My pony-tailed rock n' roll doctor (I noticed his name in the paper fronting a band) charged into the operating room with a five course tray of medical knickknacks.  Drugs, needles, trays, pans, sutures.  

I told him to take it away.

Was it wishful thinking or was the growth under my left eye getting smaller? It certainly wasn't getting worse. 

I'd had this small globule for a couple of weeks. 

A stye was the first doctor's determination.  "Put hot compresses on it."

A stye.  "I have a stye in my eye and I can't eat any pie," I thought for no reason.

But that didn't seem to work.

Still, I wasn't ready for the needle.  Who ever is?

"I think it's getting smaller, Doc.  We don't need to do it."

Less work for him.

We'll watch it.

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