After reading up on regional health concerns, and assuring myself that I was more likely to die from actually catching a disease than from the vaccine, Natalie and I headed off to our 2:30 pm medical travel consultation. I have a confession. I hate being late. At times, I am almost convinced that it is better to be dead than late. Natalie prefers not to be late, but is wholly convinced that her life will be preserved in case of tardiness. However, knowing of my great dislike for tardiness, she rapidly jabbed the elevator call button, boldly ignoring the Elevator Out Of Service sign taped firmly to the shiny doors. The time was 2:26 pm. I looked around for an accessible stair case, but nothing was in sight. When the elevator arrived, we stepped gingerly through the open doors and selected the third (top) floor. (In most cases I am a great respecter of warning signs. I generally pay particular attention to No Parking. Tow Away Zone signs and Elevator Out of Service signs. Natalie on the other hand tends to think of these signs as gentle warnings.) The elevator ride was going quite smoothly (we had successfully convinced ourselves that the sign was never properly removed) until we reached the 3rd floor. Suddenly loud, strange, and disturbing sounds began emanating from overhead. This was not comforting. The doors did open however, and we avoided all of the horrible things that can occur when an elevator decides to mischievously trap unsuspecting people inside. (The list of horrible things in my head grew surprisingly long in the few seconds it took for the elevator doors to open).
Travel doctors, like most doctors, love to ask patients to fill out forms. I hate filling out forms so I always try to make a game of it. I like to ask the gate keepers (the predictably stern women, usually found behind the desk, who are capable of making an old lady cry without remorse but are also usually friendly) for additional or optional forms. Sometimes, I try to fill out the forms that only they are suppose to fill out. This usually makes me feel better.
On this particular day I was feeling very extroverted. Usually, I am somewhat introverted, but after spending all day working alone, I was feeling very outgoing. And a bit silly. Not the best combination when talking to doctors.
Ahh the forms. Natalie and I both filled out the usual forms that communicated, in lawyer language, that medicine (despite of all the medical industry has done to persuade me otherwise) is not an exact science and the hospital cannot be held responsible if they are wrong. That seemed like a fancy way for them to say “If you do what we tell you and you die, it is not our fault.” Needless to say, I was feeling very reassured. The last form we each filled out was specific to the travel office. Understandably, a doctor that specializes in vaccinations wants to know in what countries a patient will expect to find himself. This is a reasonable question and, judging by the amount of blank space on the form, the office was expecting a list of 3-5 countries. So, there we were. In the lobby of the travel office. Bantering and laughing as we listed the 10-15 countries we knew we were/hoped we were going to visit.
Soon enough our travel doctor, Mary Lou, ushered us into one of those sterile medical rooms. (The ones with the medical table covered in butcher paper.) Mary Lou, although very capable and very professional did not (I think) fully know what to make of us. I can understand her position. As a doctor, she wanted to cold hard facts such as
- The countries where we would be traveling
- How long we would be staying in each country
- The regions of each country we planned on visiting
As Natalie and I only have a vague understanding of where we will be going, this left poor Mary Lou a bit exasperated. I suppose the silly nature I mentioned earlier did not help the situation. It also did not help that we failed to bring (or memorize) our vaccination histories. We had spent some time procuring these important records from our families and we fully intended on bringing that information to our consultation. We forgot. That part was a bit embarrassing. So, Mary Lou was forced to deal with our less than concrete travel itinerary as well as our lack of immunization records. All things considered, I thought she did a great job.
After spending 2-2.5 hours talking with Mary Lou, the following things slowly occurred to me:
- Up until this point, I was not overly concerned with the real effect (death) of contracting a deadly disease.
- Contracting a serious disease is not difficult
- Mosquitoes could be the death of me. Really.
- Good travel doctors should have all of the skills of a good mother: a large supply of patience, the ability to explain complicated material in simple terms, and a desire to communicate the consequences of an action in a way that puts the fear of God into all who would think about acting contrary to their instructions.
I expected to feel more comfortable about diseases after our travel consultation. It turns out that I am now less comfortable about diseases. I suspect that is how it should be.
At the end of the consultation, Natalie and I were given a bunch of literature on diseases and vaccinations. We also each had the pleasure of receiving 2 vaccines each. By the way, vaccines are expensive. I was surprised by the price. Paying for vaccines forced me to think about a paradox. I go to an office where a nice woman stabs me with a needle first: in one arm, than in the other. The needles are not very large, but hey she stabbing it into my muscle right? The paradox is this: why am I paying for this pleasure? Would it not make more sense for them to pay me for the right to stab my arm? I think this idea could change the medical community. In fact, I am going to forward my idea to both of the major presidential political candidates. Perhaps they will add this to their health care plans.
Justin
- - Hepatitis A: $80
- - Polio: $52
Natalie
- - TDAP (Tetanus, Diphtheria and Pertussis): $60
- - Polio: $52
Once the $75 in consultation fees and the $16 in administration fees are included, vaccinations cost us (so far) a whopping $335. This was a bit more than I expected. That being said….I think it was worth it. I mean, what would you pay to avoid certain death?
Of course… we still have other vaccinations to obtain such as Typhoid Fever and Japanese Encephalitis but we are putting those off until next week 
. We opted for the 
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out of watching them grow.
- don’t buy stuff
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