I remember sitting on my bathroom floor three years ago, shivering under two blankets while my phone buzzed with texts from my sister. I’d skipped my flu shot that October because “I never get sick” and “I’m too busy.” By November, I wasn’t just sick; I had passed a nasty strain to my three-year-old and…
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I remember sitting in my OB’s office at 28 weeks, staring at a list of ‘must-dos’ that was longer than my grocery receipt. Between picking out a car seat and trying to find a way to sleep that didn’t involve seven pillows, the last thing I wanted to talk about was another shot. I actually…
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I watched my friend Mark cancel our annual golf trip because of a “weird rash” on his torso. He thought it was just a bad reaction to some new laundry detergent. Two days later, he was in the ER with pain he described as “electric needles” hitting his ribs. It was shingles. Seeing him sidelined…
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I used to wear my childhood chickenpox scars like a badge of honor, thinking I was part of an exclusive one-and-done club. I vividly remember the oatmeal baths and the itchy misery of second grade, but I also remember the relief my mom felt when she said, “At least you will never have to worry…
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I remember the morning I turned 50. Most of my friends were joking about colonoscopies and reading glasses, but my mind was elsewhere. I was thinking about my neighbor, a tough-as-nails contractor who was sidelined for two months by a case of shingles that looked like a medieval curse. He described the pain as ‘electric…
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I remember the sharp, metallic sting of a mud-caked garden stake catching the palm of my hand. It was a shallow nick, barely bleeding, but as I rinsed away the grit, a cold realization settled in my stomach: I had absolutely no idea when my last tetanus shot was. Was it high school? Maybe for…
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I will never forget standing at the pier in San Juan, watching the sunset over the Atlantic, and feeling like my skin was on fire. I had spent months picking out the perfect shore excursions and reading reviews of the midnight buffet, but I hadn’t spent a single second checking if my Tdap was current.…
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I was frantic. Sweat beaded on my forehead as I scrolled through a decade of old Gmail folders, searching for anything that looked like a medical record. My new employer—a hospital with strict compliance rules—needed my immunization history by Friday, or the job offer would vanish. I’d spent three hours digging through a damp cardboard…
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I’ll never forget the cold sweat I broke into when I realized my dream trip to the Amazon was only fourteen days away and my yellow fever card was… well, non-existent. I called three different local clinics. Each time, the receptionist gave me the same rehearsed, robotic answer: “You need at least six weeks for…
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I was standing at the check-in counter, sweat pooling under my collar, as the gate agent stared at me with that ‘you’re-not-getting-on-this-plane’ look. I had my passport. I had my tickets. But my proof of immunity? It was sitting in a dusty folder in my home office three states away. That sinking feeling in my…
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