“You’ll be fine. Everything will be OK.”
Most guys say that to their wives at some point, and 45% of the time, they mean it. I really wanted to believe she would be fine. Everything will be OK. Only this time, I was in the 55% category.
At first, her incessant mentions of fatal reactions to yellow fever vaccines was more nuisance than concern for me.
“Honey, you’ll be fine.”
But then we wake up in the morning, the day after we both received the vaccine, and her thumb is freakishly swollen. She also has a rash on her hand. It appears to be working it’s way up her arm, the same arm where she received the shot.
We head to urgent care, which was cool with me since I just picked up “Guns, Germs, and Steel.” The doctor asks about the vaccine, takes a quick look at her thumb and rash combo, says it’s unrelated to yellow fever, and decides to do something ridiculous like jam an IV in there. We politely pass, opting for the antibiotics instead.
Was I relieved? Hell yes. I may never reveal that I, the very definition of calm and collect, was freaked out. Everything was not OK!
We’ve made it over the “however many days later and you probably won’t die from a yellow fever vaccine” hump. Peru in a week. Can’t wait.