TB and Left Behind Keys

My roommate left last night for the weekend with her boyfriend.

My boyfriend stayed in my room until about 12, and then went to his.

I went to sleep dreading waking up to go to class at 8.

I hit the snooze button 3 times.

I finally got out of bed.

I grabbed a bar for breakfast.

I closed the door behind me.


I was already running late.

I went to class.

And then to the next class.

And then.

I went to get my TB test done.

At the college, there is a “wellness center” (pretty much a clinic) that is free for all students.  Because I am receiving a scholarship to become a teacher, I have to have all my current shots, and have a background check done, because to be a teacher, (and get the money) I have to go and pretty much intern at schools around the area.  Another thing I have to have done is a TB test.

After clicking that link, would you agree that the test sounds scary?  If you don’t, read this, and you’ll understand why I do.  I have always had bad reactions to shots.  So that’s why I was so nervous beforehand.

I had planned to bring Kyle in with me to hold my hand during it, but because my class was in the same building as the wellness center, I didn’t want to go back to my dorm (which I couldn’t get inside of anyways) and wait for him to get done with class at 1.

He gave me a kiss, told me good luck, and walked away.  I opened the door to the wellness center, walked in, filled out a form, and waited in the waiting room.  Soft piano music was filling the room, but the only thing I could think about was, “OMG.  ANOTHER FREAKING NEEDLE.”

About five minutes later, the nurse comes out and calls me back.  My stomach is moving around so much that I feel like I’ll throw up if I move.  I walk slowly into the room, which is just across the hall from the waiting room.  I sit on the edge of the seat while the nurse asks me questions.  Finally, she walks towards me, holding the syringe.

I laugh a little bit, and say, “I bet you think I’m silly, because I have two tattoos, but I’m scared of this little needle.”

She smiles kindly, “Not at all.  You’ll do fine.  Look at you already!”  I hold out my arms, and she picks the left one, because I have a little cut on the right forearm.

She asks me about my tattoos.  I feel her warm hand enclose my forearm, and I know the moment is coming.  I don’t look down, but look at her and explain my newest tattoo.  I feel the needle go in.  It hurts a little bit.

She pulls the needle out, and I watch.  There’s a little purple-ish bump, and next to it is the tiny red hole.  The bump looks disgusting, but the nurse tells me that it’ll go away.  (It’s actually gone now.  All you can see is the tiny, tiny scab where the needle went in.)  I’m not sore at all, even at the injection site, because the syringe doesn’t poke into muscle, or a vein; it just slides in under the skin.

I guess I’m not as big of a baby as I often think I am.

I was pretty brave.

Oh, and about the being locked out thing.  I had a Hall Director come and let me in.  The office is quite a walk away, so I sat outside (and it is VERY cold out there) and waited.  Finally, I was able to get in my room.  My keys were right where I left them.  I had thought how bad it would be if they were just lost, but they aren’t.  I’m just not going to forget them anytime soon.


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