RIVER CITY JOURNAL: GETTING A SHOT? iSN'T THAT SOMETHING THE DO ON ER?

My life has been checkered by run-ins with doctors and nurses with needles. They don't know what a coward I am.

Squeamish isn't a word I use very often, but it is exactly the word I would use to describe myself when it comes to getting shots or having blood drawn for tests.

When my wife and I were married, a blood test was required, along with a three-day waiting period. I don't know all the medical reasons, either for the test or the wait. What did they think would happen to the blood in three days?

Anyway, we were sent to the hospital emergency room in her home town to get the test. She stuck out her arm and let the lab nurse draw the blood.

As my knees became more and more wobbly, the nurse turned to me. I asked to lie down. Fortunately I asked before I passed out.

No one probably would have given this weak-kneed incident another thought, except for the fact that wives have a way of remembering these events at just the right times.

Years before the prenuptial bloodletting, there was another nasty incident. It involved getting a polio shot.

There probably has never been a more terrible medical scare than the threat of polio in the 1950s. Even AIDS, with its terrible consequences, doesn't match the terror of polio, in my mind. Polio could strike anyone at any time, particularly youngsters who had nothing but promise and fortune ahead of them.

Many of you will remember the displays merchants had next to their cash registers in those days, the ones put there by the March of Dimes. Dime by dime, money was raised for medical research that resulted in the vaccines that ended the dread of polio in this country.

But that meant, of course, cowards like me had to get a shot.

My mother was teaching at a rural, one-room school at the time, and she made arrangements for all the students to go to a nearby town where a mobile clinic was to be set up to get the shots. So all her students, me included, piled into her car and drove off for what at first seemed like a field trip.

You remember field trips. They were mostly enjoyable excursions that kept you from your regular classes. Nothing wrong with field trips. No siree.

But this one had a kicker. You had to stand in line while the kids in front of you rolled up their sleeves and braced for the needle.

My stomach was churning long before it was my turn, and I kept moving to the back of the line. Just as I was to get my shot, I darted out of the church basement where the nurse was dispensing life-saving protection. I immediately upchucked on the sidewalk.

I don't remember much after that. It probably took two or three adults to hold me down for the shot. I should thank them. I never got polio.

All of these memories flashed before my eyes this week when I went for my annual physical. The new, young doctor -- he's only a couple of years older than my older son -- suggested a flu shot while I was there.

No thanks, I said, I felt fine and was afraid the shot would have unpleasant side effects.

Yes, the young doc said, the first time he got a flu shot he was sick for three days.

A real salesman, this medical professional.

But, he said, a bad case of the flu could make you sick for three weeks, and you might have respiratory problems for up to six months.

I recalled my last serious bout with the flu two years ago. The doctor was dead right.

Still, I shook my head no.

The doctor started making some notes on my chart. Probably writing "Pig-headed" for future reference. As he wrote, he casually mentioned that he had a couple of patients last year who "came in with flu symptoms, and in a couple of days they croaked."

Clearly, this was a fairly straightforward kind of medical language they teach medical students these days. Don't candy-coat it.

"You really know how to deliver a one-two punch, don't you, Doctor?" I said.

He looked up at me patiently and said nothing.

"OK," I said. "I'll get a flu shot."

The nurse who gave me the shot was a pro. Whatever she did, I didn't feel a thing. I remembered to ask if I could sit down. I didn't want to embarrass myself or make her deal with my slumping heap on the floor.

I am now a poster boy for flu shots. Everyone should get them. Heck, there's nothing to them. They aren't anything like the polio shots I remember.

And if I manage to get by another year without the flu, I'll be first in line next year for my flu shot. Promise. No doctor will ever have to tell me about my croaking potential ever again.

Thanks, Doc.

~R. Joe Sullivan is the editor of the Southeast Missourian.