Abortion: Only the Tip of the Real Problem

May 3, 2022

By Karen

A draft opinion by Justice Samuel Alito on the Supreme Court’s still-pending decision on Roe v. Wade has leaked and reveals the expected. The conservative majority (Alito, Thomas, Gorsuch, Kavanaugh, Coney Barrett, maybe Roberts) will allow states once again to force women to carry unwanted pregnancies, or risk death trying to end them.

Meanwhile, sadistic state Republicans across the country are passing draconian laws to severely restrict or ban abortion altogether.

The nightmare is here, so, will women stop whining and start demanding an eye for an eye? Or, a dick for a uterus?

(NOTE: I use “dick” instead of the proper term to avoid an avalanche of porn spam.)

While Republican men have wet dreams about torturing expectant mothers and then starving, neglecting, abusing and using their toddlers for target practice, women seem to be repeating Democrats’ mistake by playing nice. They express outrage on cable news and hold marches and peaceful protests.

Women, wake up. We need to scream and do something about the root cause of abortion: men’s dicks.

Dicks exist only for sperm delivery. OK, sperm and urine. Dickless men would have to sit down to pee like ladies. No biggie.

If not for dicks doing their sperm thing, abortion would be unneeded, legal or otherwise.

Every abortion now in question started with a dick attached to a man.

[“What about in vitro fertilization?” you cleverly ask. Stay focused. Women who get in vitro (Latin for “without dick”) are desperate. They don’t get abortions unless something goes terribly wrong. Those tragic terminations should have another name and are excluded from my discussion.]

Sicko Republicans paint women as inherently evil baby-killers whose lives must be destroyed — even if they were rape or incest victims. Whereas, the real evil is men’s unfettered dick freedom. Nobody’s suggesting the first fucking remedy for that. Not even male birth control.

Female legislators need to grow a pair and write counter-legislation.

How about bills mandating stiff penalties for men who impregnate women against their will, even if they’re married? If the child is born, the woman can sue to ensure financial support for herself and the child for 18 years, even if there’s a divorce.

Or, how about enabling a woman to sue for $10,000 any man who hits on her for unwanted sex that could result in pregnancy?

Call this one #MeToo on Steroids, or a Bounty on Indiscriminate Dicks. If Texas can put a bounty on uteruses, why not?

Men who try to skip out on the court’s ruling against them for any reason are reported, arrested and given the option of vasectomy or chemical castration (their choice) so they can’t offend again.

This is basically TNR (trap-neuter-release) used on feral cat colonies to reduce their numbers, only applied to human men. If enough men skirt their financial penalties, they get neutered, the birth rate drops and abortion eventually becomes moot.

Seem harsh? Think about this:

Most men think of their dicks as instruments of pride, pleasure (or power) over women, not baby-makers. To exterminate men with this attitude would admittedly be extreme, but we can certainly curb their dicks.

While this female-friendly legislation gets debated, women could exercise options some currently ignore, if the numbers fleeing Texas for abortions are any indication. For starters, keep your legs together. If you feel frisky, you can do the job quicker and better yourself and, unless your man has no hands, so can he.

In extreme cases, remember Lorena Bobbitt. She became famous in 1993 for cracking under sexual abuse (and a forced abortion) and castrating her husband. The world would be a lot safer for all women if more wives trained their husbands to sleep with one eye open, or risk waking up looking like a Ken doll.

Women need to get real and get loud about dicks. In addition to legal penalties, we need to ban Viagra, Cialis and whatever other dick-inflating pills they’ve got, as well as pumps, implants and any other pervy devices they use.

If women can’t have abortions, then men need to take responsibility for their role in pregnancy and be punished to the fullest extent if it’s unwanted.

And may every dick on the Supreme Court (including Amy the c*nt) who doesn’t like this solution be damned.


Back With an Update

February 21, 2022

By Karen

Never-ending lockdown has made time meaningless to me (whatever happened to 2021?). I realized my dates were off in the previous post about my mother. She actually went into the hospital on Tuesday, January 25, and had surgery on Wednesday, January 26.

Since then, it feels like it’s been six long, stressful months, not one.

The surgery removed part of her colon around a large tumor. Because it had spread to only four lymph nodes, the surgeon held out the possibility that she “may” have gotten it all, although it was labeled stage 3.

Two days post-op in the hospital, my mother couldn’t/wouldn’t do what was expected; namely, walk, use the toilet, take a shower or eat. After several more days, she did sit in a chair and brush her teeth into a cup.

On Friday, February 4, my father went to visit and found the nurses kicking her out without notifying us she was being discharged. I think they’d had enough of her (and Medicare reimbursement was probably exhausted). I dashed over to help and we got her home.

Our biggest family challenge now is my mother’s no-can-do attitude. Before this, she was playing tennis, driving, shopping and generally doing her thing, although eating suspiciously little and losing a lot of weight.

She hates doctors, has never been seriously ill before (I know, amazing at 84, right?), nor ever had surgery that wasn’t elective. If she ever suspected her plumbing was wonky, she wasn’t talking.

Nearly four weeks post-op, she still eats only a few hundred calories a day, if that. She’s afraid she’ll vomit, but she doesn’t. An appetite prescription isn’t helping much.

She’s too weak and unsteady to get around without a walker. She reacts to touches like she’s been hit with a baseball bat. She should be well on the mend, but says she feels worse every day and we just “don’t understand.”

She’s probably a candidate for chemo (maybe even in convenient pill form), but not as long as she’s so weak from starvation.

My father, sister and I are doing all we can, but the best intentions are useless without cooperation.

On a lighter note, things around Cats Working are fine (although the kitchen faucet is dripping and driving me crazy). Tony says, “Hi!” from his favorite perch…

Max was grouchy because I woke him for a photo op from his mid-morning siesta…

And Roc is his usual crazy self…


Cats Working on Temporary Hiatus

January 31, 2022

By Karen

Letting you know that things have gone quiet here because my mother has been in the hospital since January 18. The family has been taking it one day at a time, having lots of phone calls with family and friends and making hospital visits as often as possible under COVID restrictions.

Respecting my mother’s privacy, I don’t want to share any further details except to say she wasn’t admitted for COVID.

We’ll be back as soon as we can.


I’m Being Trashed By a Rash

September 24, 2021

By Karen

Apologies for being scarce, but weird things are happening — with me, the cats are fine — causing anxiety, doctor visits and so many trips to Target pharmacy that I’ve lost count.

I became an itchy snow globe in July, without the globe. My scalp started falling apart. This photo isn’t my head, but it looks like this…

Judging from scarier images online, my problem seems relatively mild, but I immediately cut my hair short. (I also went lighter, got highlights, and restored my bangs. It’s cute.)

Next I had a peely red patch above one eyebrow. It spread. Today, my entire neck and shoulders look sunburned, and leathery red patches keep popping up everywhere else.

My regular doctor thinks it’s psoriasis and/or eczema. Since it usually takes months to book a dermatologist, he prescribed some oily overnight shit for my scalp and said, “Sleep on a towel.”

Well, I lucked out (maybe) and got a dermatology appointment within a week. Since the scalp oil was pricey and I wasn’t keen on ruining the pillowcases, I decided to wait it out.

Now I think I know why I got the quick derm visit. That doctor, who I won’t name because there’s follow-up involved, is no star on HealthGrades or any other review site. Patients describe him like Jekyll and Hyde — mostly Hyde.

I met Hyde. He barely spoke to me. He told me to stand in front of him in my underwear and an open-backed waist-length gown and, without a word, roughly yanked down the back of my panties to check my ass like he was unwrapping a package of meat.

He also thinks it’s maybe psoriasis and eczema (no straight answers from anybody with these skin conditions) and he prescribed two remedies to use twice a day for two weeks. Clobetasol solution for scalp ($49) and Triamcinolone ointment for face and body ($8, a bargain!). Note: Tony couldn’t resist photobombing them…

To the extent I can get Clobetasol on my scalp, it seems to help. I’m less itchy and a bit less sheddy.

Triamcinolone is a devil’s concoction of mineral oil and Vaseline. I can’t sleep or wear clothes in it and it leaves grease marks on everything it touches.

The dermatologist muttered something about doing bloodwork for strep (??), so I had to go get that done another day at a lab.

No strep. No kidding.

When the triage nurse called me with those results, I went full Karen on her about Triamcinolone, which felt like the doctor’s idea of a sick joke. She said she’d speak to him.

Target’s now holding a tub of cream Triamcinolone for me for the same low price. So, the doctor had the equivalently priced choice of absorbable cream or nonabsorbable greasy goop, and he went with goop. Yeah, he’s probably sadistic.

After three days on the grease, nothing’s really improving. The nurse said it takes a week, but I don’t believe her. Skin can heal fast with the right treatment.

I’m suspicious because I just realized an expired tube of cream I have from a 2014 lichen sclerosis incident (another lousy dermatologist at the same practice —another story) is the SAME stuff.

Two years ago, my gynecologist diagnosed a small spot of lichen on my nether parts and said I could use that old cream on it. After one application, the spot disappeared.

So, when my current blotches started, I tried that cream on a few and NOTHING HAPPENED, which is why I started seeing doctors.

I told Mr. Hyde all this, and he still prescribed it again. I hope he proves me wrong and my does skin clear up, but I’m not hopeful.

So, please excuse me, I’ve been preoccupied.


Delta Surges, Masks Disappear. WTF?

August 13, 2021

By Karen

During the one brief, shining moment COVID was on the decline, I still never went out frivolously or stopped wearing a mask — not even after July 1, when it once again became a Class 6 felony, punishable by up to five years in prison, to conceal your face in public. (Luckily, I haven’t heard of anybody going down on a mask rap.)

Virginia’s mask prohibition went back into effect when Governor Ralph Northam allowed the pandemic state of emergency to expire on June 30. Now, the Delta variant is rampaging through our red regions. But instead of again requiring masks in indoor settings, Northam’s wussing out and says just to follow CDC guidelines, which seem to change every five fucking minutes.

(I don’t blame the CDC, but keeping up with this shit is exhausting.)

Northam, a pediatric neurosurgeon in real life, just mandated masks for everyone in K-12 when schools open in the fall. Some parents are outraged, because they must want their kids sick or dead.

But many adults are NOT following CDC guidelines. As of this moment, the CDC says EVERYONE, vaccinated or not, should mask up indoors in “high” or “substantial” transmission areas. According to this map, that’s most of Virginia.

Many vaccinated people are apparently unaware they can inhale snootfuls of Delta from unvaxxed maskholes who walk among us. Even if the vaxxed themselves don’t get sick, they become walking COVID carriers.

This past week at Food Lion and Sam’s Club, I was gobsmacked to see predominantly barefaced customers, and some employees. The ones in masks mostly seemed to be older ladies like me who don’t want even a dab of COVID.

I blame this on the myriad stupid sources people consider “news.” I’m not just talking about Trumpy media outlets and Facebook.

With the proliferation of cable channels, streaming, social media, and even CNN’s sketchy coverage of most things, there’s no longer any main trusted source where everyone gets the same story. We used to get our news from competently staffed newspapers and career journalists like Walter Cronkite, Edward R. Murrow, Huntley and Brinkley, and other professionals committed to reporting the facts without putting their own editorial spin on them.

Speaking of news, spare me any more tales of how COVID is ravaging states in the South and Midwest — a.k.a. Trump Country.

Last year, they were all oblivious while hundreds of thousands of their fellow Americans suffered and died. Today, they still refuse the vaccinations that could save their lives because their ignorance has become impenetrable after soaking in so many lies and conspiracy theories from God-knows-where.

So, now it’s their turn to get deathly ill and die, and in the immortal words of Melania’s jacket, “I really don’t care, do you?”

My sympathy goes to the selfless medical providers tasked with trying to save these morons from horrible, 100% preventable, self-inflicted deaths after they thoughtlessly sucked in a deadly virus through their maskless pieholes, mistaking it for “freedom.”

Now that it’s no longer blue states bearing the brunt of fatalities, some Republican leaders are admitting masks and vaccines aren’t so bad after all. It’s finally dawning on them that they’re screwed when they succeed in killing off much of their base in those sparsely populated, vast swaths of nowhere. They forgot to ram through any laws in those states giving livestock the right to vote.


CDC Gives Coronavirus Great News

May 14, 2021

By Karen

Was I the only one who reacted with dismay yesterday when the CDC suddenly proclaimed, “Go forth bare-faced and cuddle up! If you’re fully vaccinated, no more masks or distancing. Coronavirus can’t touch you”? (Fine print: Unless you’re on public transport or in a hospital.)

WTF? This is bullshit. This freedom came the same day fully-vaccinated 65-year-old Bill Maher had to cancel taping of his HBO show, Real Time (which he’s been doing live for months before a reduced and distanced audience), because he asymptomatically tested POSITIVE for COVID.

The CDC says, however, that people who haven’t been vaccinated still need to mask up. Yeah, right. Like they’re going to start now. They must be thrilled to be able to mingle freely again because most businesses aren’t asking for proof of vaccination.

In fact, Governor Ron DeSantis in Florida is prohibiting businesses from requiring proof of vaccination, screwing the Florida-based cruise ships that want to sail again and stay disease-free.

Dr. William Schaffner, an infectious disease expert at Vanderbilt University Medical Center in Nashville, says, “Vaccinated people need some sort of reward.”

I’m sorry, that’s ridiculous. What are we, two-year-olds?

The ones really getting rewarded are the holdouts who now don’t have to do a fucking thing while the vaccine they should get goes to waste.

The Washington Post reports as of today that only 46.8% of the total population has received at least one dose, and only about a third is fully vaccinated. That’s far below what they’ve been calling herd immunity.

Meanwhile, the anti-vaxxers become variant incubators. Nobody knows if current vaccines protect against variants, because they don’t all exist yet. But they WILL if we drop our guard with people thinking the pandemic’s over and they don’t need the shots.

Another thing we don’t know is how long vaccination protection lasts. And is the time different for two-dose Pfizer and Moderns versus one-dose Johnson & Johnson?

What most infuriates me is how we NEVER learn. The goddamn minute we see fewer cases and deaths (we’re averaging only 622 corpses a day, according to The New York Times, Yippee!), we throw caution out the window. Like we haven’t seen what happens after EVERY large event or holiday where people get sloppy.

I hope I’m wrong, but I expect the numbers to climb again over the summer as people who think they’re safe mingle freely with the diseased and vaccination protection wanes.

Not to mention the country’s not in a sterile bubble. People carrying variants can travel here from anywhere. Now they can walk the streets bare-faced and spike our numbers.

I don’t intend to give up my mask in public until I see vaccination stats much higher, infections much lower, and a CDC estimate of vaccine longevity.

COVID is nothing to play with and I’ll forego my “reward,” thank you, to stay alive and breathing without a ventilator.

PS: I’m glad I just bought a huge package of toilet paper.

NOTE: The cats threw in the towel on the Triple Crown. To quote them, it’s “FUBAR.” Even if Medina Spirit wins the Preakness tomorrow, he’ll most likely forfeit his Kentucky Derby win, thanks to the crooked humans around him. Medina’s record will always bear that stain as they go merrily on their way, doping and disgracing other horses.


Unfoodie Survives Pre-Colonoscopy Diet — Just Barely

April 26, 2021

By Karen

Since a recent commenter has handed my ass to me for being an idiot to receive the foul, disreputable Johnson & Johnson vaccine, let me preface this post by saying I realize my colonoscopy angst is pure First World kvetching and I do feel guilty about it, considering the world’s hunger epidemic.

I’ve got to type fast, because in 30 minutes I must pop my first two Dulcolax tablets to enter the final stage of prep.

I’ve had three colonoscopies before, but this time my doctor’s practice surprised me by throwing in this five-day “no-fiber pre-colonoscopy diet.” So, as of last Thursday, my life, which has already been a mind-numbing hamster wheel of Groundhog Days thanks to a year of pandemic lockdown, took a turn for the worse.

First, let me show you my produce bin…

NOTHING I would normally put in there, like tomatoes, lettuce, spinach, is on this diet. I was allowed to eat vegetables if they were cooked to vomitous mush, but I took a pass on that.

These are only the highlights because the monotony of my meals would put you to sleep. This dinner was flounder and mashed potatoes…

I always leave the skin on potatoes because I loathe peeling them, so I made enough for leftovers. But I haven’t touched them because I lost interest. And I REALLY love potatoes.

Another dinner was pasta with little olive oil and butter, topped by feta cheese…

I’m so used to chewy whole-grain pasta now, this white pasta had the texture of slimy erasers.

Last night I had shrimp and rice…

For breakfast one day, I had scrambled eggs, sourdough toast and canteloupe…

This next was my most colorful meal. Croissant, hard-boiled egg, and peaches…

Most days I skipped lunch, but did make this grilled gouda and cheddar cheese on sourdough with Lays White Cheddar Poppables on Saturday…

I only ate half of it because I lost interest. And I REALLY love cheese.

For desserts and snacks, I had pound cake and banana…

Baked Lays potato chips…

White cheddar cheese crackers…

And Danish butter cookies…

Have you noticed that the entire color spectrum of this food is white to pale orange? No fiber = no color. No spice. Minimal flavor.

Last night I whipped up a double batch of lemon Jell-O, the only “solid” I’m allowed today. I’ll probably end up feeding that to the garbage disposal because I hate Jell-O.

Well, I just popped my Dulcolax. In an hour when I start choking down Lemon-Lime Gatorade laced with Miralax, it’s going to get really ugly around here.

What keeps me going is the thought that this will finally be over in 24 hours and I can start weaning myself back onto real food with color. Like strawberries and blueberries and red potatoes and tomatoes and anything green.

PS: The hospital did call me about the COVID-19 test, which I did in a drive-by on Friday. I haven’t heard anything, so I’m assuming no news is good news and the J&J vaccine has been doing its job, evil creators notwithstanding.

Wish me luck!


Since When Did Colonoscopies Take a Week?

April 19, 2021

By Karen

After skipping it last year, receiving the doctor’s reminder recently guilted me into scheduling a colonoscopy for April 27.

Ever since, when I wake up mornings and colonoscopy pops into my head, my stomach lurches and I dash to the toilet to dry-heave until I calm down.

This is my fourth time at this rodeo. I go every five years because I have a polyp-y family. The doctor even found two on me last time. So, I’m familiar with the nasty, nasty prep.

But this time they blindsided me with some new wrinkles:

  • 7 days of no vitamins (buh-bye, calcium)
  • 5 days fiber-free, with minimal basic nutrition

Asking around, nobody I know has ever had to do this diet, nor even heard of doing it.

They mailed me these half-ass dietary instructions that raised many more questions than they answered. Checking their website for “more information,” all they had was THIS SAME F**KING PAGE. They must think it’s a masterpiece.

So, I kept looking. Yup, this is definitely a thing.

But the Mayo Clinic recommends only two days of low fiber in a pretty casual manner.

Kaiser Permanente recommends three days, and their comprehensive list calmed me down considerably. OK are butter, cooking oil, cheese, white grape juice (instead of YUCK apple) turkey, cantaloupe, peeled potatoes and even creamy peanut butter.

The Colorectal Cancer Alliance prep diet (four days) even had baked potato chips and bananas!

For the record, I try to be good about eating fiber, fruit and veggies, so I’m woefully ill-stocked for this. I’ll go shopping and start this new regimen on Thursday because I count Butt-Probe Eve with no solid food as a fiber-free day.

For nasty prep, it’s two seemingly gratuitous Dulcolax tablets followed by 14 doses of Miralax, the last supposedly at about 11 p.m.

WTF?

I’m backing up that timetable two hours because I’d like to sleep before the big day.

For the first time, I’m having the procedure at a hospital instead of the doctor’s office. They said it’s because I’ve hit 65.

Sounds like they want us Medicare folks — after the malnutrition and probable constipation, then starvation, epic diarrhea and sleep deprivation — in a facility with convenient morgue access.

And did I mention I’m supposed to get a COVID-19 test? I was told nothing about where or when, and I’m not asking. I’ve been vaccinated, and I’m more worried about the hospital crawling with COVID than I am.

So, it’s finally the week this nightmare begins to end. Wish me luck. (If you’ve done all this and have any reassurances for me, comments are open.)


Twitter and @CatsWorking Part Ways Forever

March 8, 2021

By Karen

BUT FIRST, BREAKING NEWS: In what can only be described as a miracle, I just returned from receiving the one-dose Johnson & Johnson COVID-19 vaccine! The county sent an email late Saturday night with appointments today at the county fairgrounds, so I pounced. Four days shy of my one-year lockdown anniversary, I can barely wrap my head around knowing that normal life may finally be on the horizon.

Now, Twitter. It took exactly 10 weeks to confirm my status because Twitter euphemistically calls all disciplinary action “suspension,” including permanent banishment. I was indeterminately suspended on Christmas Eve and immediately filed an appeal. Hearing nothing back, a few weeks ago I requested clarification on the duration of my suspension.

By the way, all contacts with Twitter “support” get canned bot responses, so I don’t know if there’s any human intelligence involved, or if they just spit stuff out based on algorithms.

I’d had a Twitter account since 2010, but the three strikes leading to my termination all occurred during Trump. First, I was shut down for 12 hours for insulting Sandra Huckabee Sanders. Then I got seven days for calling Ivanka the C-word. At Twitter’s command, I deleted those tweets but have no regrets about what they said.

On Christmas Eve 2020, the hashtag #ImpotentTrump was trending (meaning thousands of tweets included it), so I joined in. Here’s the tweet that pushed Twitter to the breaking point. It was viewed 138 times…

And here’s their rationale…

Compare their list of protected categories to my tweet and you’ll see that none apply, unless they’re defending Trump’s potency. I was criticizing his POLITICS and utter failure as a president, as well as his family’s corruption. Perhaps instead of “tar & feathers,” I should have wished them coal in their stockings, or bags of dog shit on their doorsteps.

The lesson here is that it’s incredibly easy to have your message misconstrued.

Twitter revoked my ability to delete the tweet or deactivate the account, which still sits there in some weird Twitter cyberpurgatory with 8,000+ tweets.

I respect Twitter’s right as a publisher to reject my work. But, since they have rejected it, I don’t believe they have any right to hold it hostage, and have asked them to delete @CatsWorking altogether.

Twitter began to self-destruct when they refused for four years to rein in Trump for thousands of insulting, cyberbullying, lying tweets FAR worse than anything I ever tweeted. Now they’ve swung the pendulum hard in the opposite direction and seem to be banishing people willy-nilly.

In January, Twitter closed 70,000 accounts of QAnon followers, as well as Trump’s, and faced accusations of stifling conservative voices.

I feel like the baby thrown out with the bathwater, but c’est la vie. Cats Working, the blog, lives on.


COVID Vaccine Clusterf**k

February 1, 2021

By Karen

When it comes to getting COVID under control, it seems no politician but Joe Biden has his or her head screwed on straight.

Now we’ve got these even more highly contagious variants from Britain and South Africa gaining traction in the U.S. — with no reliable intel on how effective the current vaccines are against them — and politicians again are considering opening things up!

In my Central Virginia locale, over half the elementary school kids are going back to the classroom full-time tomorrow, yet over 80% of the teachers and staff HAVE NOT had even the first vaccination.

WTF? It’s as if they want this pandemic to drag on for years.

Like the rest of the country, Virginia hasn’t received as much vaccine as expected, thanks to Trump’s lies and blocking of everyone who even attempted to facilitate distribution of supplies and vaccine to the states.

Even with the blood of over 450,000 Americans on his hands from COVID alone, Trump is playing golf in Florida, free as a bird, when he should be rotting in jail awaiting trial for genocide and crimes against humanity.

Personally, I rank in Phase 1b on COVID vaccine…

This morning I found the website where I could preregister, which I did, but it said it could be weeks or months before vaccine is available.

I’m OK with that if it means whatever vaccine they’re getting is going to medical professionals and essential workers like grocery, retail and postal employees who have been risking their health every day so I can hang onto tiny shreds of normalcy. Or people older than I who are at greater risk.

Who I DON’T want getting shots are Republican politicians. But it’s already too late. Those rapacious gluttons — I’m thinking Mitch McConnell — were among the first to get protection, even while backing Trump in his lies that it was overblown and a hoax.

Thanks to the variants, we’re now supposed to wear TWO masks. I sometimes feel faint wearing one, so we’ll see how doubling up goes. If two masks keep me from walking around in a fog of steamed-up glasses, they could be worth a little temporary suffocation.

While I’m so thankful that Biden plans to hold three factual COVID briefings a week featuring doctors (minus disgraced Dr. Deborah “Scarf for Every Occasion” Birx) and scientists instructed not to lie, I’m worried about this vaccine situation on two other fronts.

The first is that a single dose gets me only halfway to the finish line. Once I get that first shot — whenever — what about the second dose? Will I be able to get it in the 21-28-day follow-up window if supply remains so jerky? Or will the second shot become a new time-sensitive source of stress while my initial protection wanes and fades into an exercise in futility?

Because even after the first shot, nothing changes. It’s still lockdown, double masks, distancing and hand-washing because you don’t know who’s vaccinated or not.

My second concern is the shot itself. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I haven’t seen a single video where the person administering the shot didn’t just casually jab that long needle into the recipient’s arm like they were playing darts.

I hate needles. The less I see or feel them, the better. If out of the corner of my eye I see someone rearing back to stab my arm with two inches of cold steel, I just may pass out on the spot.

This fear won’t stop me from getting vaccinated, but I’ll confess I’m a chickenshit and definitely dreading it.


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