Kage Baker didn’t like going to the doctor’s. She wasn’t especially scared by the appurtenances of the medical art. She was just very uncomfortable being partially dressed.
She always complained that she didn’t know what to do with her underwear. My solution – don’t wear any when you go a doctor appointment – did not appeal to Kage. She was a lady; she would never have worn shoes without stockings.
Not even at the end, when she was bed-and-wheelchair-confined, did she dress down. She always had her special nightgowns; she had her jeans and good sweatshirts and freaking slip-on canvas deck shoes to wear in her wheelchair. Eddie Bauer, no less, and Maryland Square. No Payless Shoes for Kage.
I really don’t enjoy going to the doctor myself but sometimes one must. Kage made me promise I would look after my health. So I went today. (And no – I did not wear socks.) Along with various maintenance projects, the nurse looked at me and said: “Hey, you’re an old lady now! Here, let us vaccinate you for influenza and pneumonia.”
And they did. The result is that I will survive the coming flu apocalypse and not get pneumonia, thus leaving me as a zombie snack when all you young, healthy people die off. It also means that right this very minute: I feel awful. I have a fever. I have aches and pains I did not have this morning. I am having perfectly normal and perfectly rotten reaction to the vaccines.
I praise and honor the memories of William Jenner and all those cows he poked with needles to give us the miracle of vaccines. But I feel like shit right now, and so I must say: Dr. Jenner was a stupid git. And the cow he rode in on, too.
Going to bed now. Watch out for zombies.
Tomorrow: Kage’s ability to bend reality