Gardasil

Gardisil. Need I say more? When I arrived at school this morning I was perfectly chipper then I heard someone say 'Gardasil injections today.' I felt my arm wince at the very mention. The last injection was horrible. It felt like the nurse had picked up her pen and stabbed it into my arm then she wiggled. It was the worst injection I have ever had. Imagine my fear when I heard that today was the day for the second batch which was apparently 'worse than the first one'.

I went to maths. My maths teacher started to explain a trigonometric equation. But I couldn't pay attention. The clock was ticking. With every tick I was one second closer to the injection. One second closer to the pain. Our teacher didn't let us go until ten past because 'there'll be a queue' and she was very excited about showing us all these snazz trig thingies on the graphics calculator. Which reminds me...is it normal to have to smack your calculator on the table for it to turn on? Fonaldo (my calculator) has been getting some serious abuse lately.

It was time.

(Did you like the single sentence paragraph for effect? It's meant to make your writing more affective.) We drudged into the cultural centre our heads down and arms shaking. Then just as I was about to get my form. My contact fell out. Never have I been so glad to have contacts. The inevitable was delayed for just a little bit longer. I went to the nurse. I knocked on the door. She gave me some lens solution. I cleaned my contact. Back it went into my eye. I walked back to the Colosseum. Where inevitable pain would come unless you inflict it onto others...(again trying for the metaphor but somehow I don't think getting an injection can be compared with fighting to the death). My form was thrust into my hands and before I could escape a nurse came to get me.

She was happy. Too happy. Up came my shirt sleeve. Up came my polyprop sleeve. Until finally my pasty bare arm was exposed. I think it trembled, just a little bit. It knew what was coming. The nurse gave me the usual Q & A until there was nothing left to do. Dog (from footrot flats) was thrust into my terrified hand. The nurse commanded me to count to ten. In went the needle. My hand clamped down on dog. His body was squished towards his head. He must dread this part of the job. Then the agony. Oh the agony. It trickled down my arm.

'Okay we're done'. It was over. My arm still hurt like a mother ucker but it was over. I dazily wondered over to the benches and sat down to watch High School Musical 3. I was probably the only person who hadn't seen it. The comment was made that I was sad for having not seen it. But in reality they are sad because they have seen it. I mean from what I could gather the whole thing was about the cast practising for a musical about their time at high school. Wow imaginative! I sat down and started to watch. Then slowly others emerged from their torturous prisons. Songs were played and sung along to. Finally my name was called by the nurse at the front. I left and I didn't look back.