Flu Shot Day!
When I arrived at the Post hospital that morning at 8 a.m., Mike had already got things
under way.
“We’re
going to be a bit busy today, Doc,” he informed me.
“Oh, how is
that?” I asked, "I have to meet a patient in the Emergency Dept at eleven.
“Oh don't worry, Doc, I'll get you there in time," he reassured me." We
have about 30 young fellows who need their flu shots this morning,” he
answered. “And then we have a young
fellow I admitted during the night, with tonsillitis and there are
about another eight wanting to be seen, and of course then there are others who
come in during the clinic I’ll let them in until nine o’clock and then unless
they look sick they’ll have to wait until tomorrow.”
“That’s
going to take quite a while Mike. Thirty
immunizations even before we start seeing the sick ones.”
“I have all
thirty of the men requiring the immunizations lined up, standing to attention, with their sleeves
rolled up and waiting for their shots,” Mike said proudly, his military background surfacing. “I filled up thirty
syringes with the required amount of the vaccine and I’ll wipe off their arms
with the alcohol swab, while you inject the vaccine. If we allow about a minute for each one we
should be done in a half hour or so.”
“Sounds
good to me, Mike and if we keep up the momentum, I might just make
my appointment at the Grey Nun’s hospital and grab a bite of lunch before my
afternoon office.”
Mike smiled,
“don’t worry Doc; I’ll make sure you're in time.”
As I
followed Mike into the clinic, I found thirty young RCMP recruits standing to
attention with their sleeves rolled up their shoulder. On a mobile trolley nearby there were thirty
alcohol swabs and thirty loaded syringes.
Without further ado Mike wheeled the trolley to the first candidate,
wiped down the appropriate area of the left shoulder and waited for me to pick
up a loaded syringe. I gave the
injection. We were about halfway along
the lines when we heard a crash as the recruit third in the line slid to the
floor and not too silently. I started to
run towards him.
Mike said,
“You just carry on Doc, you’ll have to wipe off the arms yourself with the
alcohol swab, while I look after the poor lad.
It always amazes me that the biggest, strongest looking lads are the
ones who faint at the sight of a needle, let alone a prick from one.”
Just
as he said there were always a couple of fainters. Mike never seemed to worry about them
getting hurt and so neither did I.
‘They’re big strong lads, don’t worry about them’, was Mike’s retort
when I expressed some concern. Our
failure to worry was well rewarded as nobody ever did get hurt and in those
days there were not so many unemployed lawyers hanging around.
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