When I asked the pharmacist if they had flu shots, he turned wordlessly and walked to a cabinet, grabbed a blue and white box covered in pharmaceutical market speak, just big enough to hold a syringe, and came back to the cash register. He set it on the counter and started ringing me up. I hesitated a bit, and looked at him and the other pharmacist and asked (in French), "Umm - who's responsible for doing the injection?" The answer came back from both at once: "Vous!" I grimaced and said "Oh boy." They laughed a little.
So, I went home, set the box on my office desk, and left it there for a while. I considered all sorts of alternatives. Jennifer certainly didn't want to be involved! She was lucky, she got her shot at the office. Eventually, I got up the nerve and did it myself. It was all over in a few seconds.
So, I went home, set the box on my office desk, and left it there for a while. I considered all sorts of alternatives. Jennifer certainly didn't want to be involved! She was lucky, she got her shot at the office. Eventually, I got up the nerve and did it myself. It was all over in a few seconds.
I put the empty syringe back in its box, put the box back in the little plastic bag from the pharmacy, and all that went into the regular trash bag. I hoped no one would ever be stuck by it. Which led me to thinking about all those kids walking around in trash heaps in Brazil and Bangaldesh. But, that's a whole other story.
