Dear Snoopy: I hate you.

I hate getting shots. I am terribly afraid of needles. If I have to get a shot, I will pace the floor of the waiting room, hoping an emergency comes up and I have to have my appointment moved to another day some time next year. But why be so afraid? Well, to be honest with you, I blame Snoopy and the entire medical field.

I had a really bad experience when I got my first tetanus shot at the age of 5. The first thing I wanted to know when I saw the needle was, "Will this hurt?" I was told by the nurse that it would only hurt a little. I guess her threshold for pain was slightly higher than that of a 5-year old boy, because I thought it hurt like a wet handed pink belly. I started crying, and the nurse, showing faux sympathy said, "It's okay. Here, let me put this band aid on you. It's a magic band aid, and it will make the hurting go away." It was a wonderful looking band aid. It was a Snoopy band aid. It was blue. It was not magic.

The sting of the shot went away fairly quickly, leading me to believe in Snoopy, magic, and medical personnel. However, an hour or so later, when I was at home, my arm started to throb. I'm sure you've had a tetanus shot and know the pain I'm speaking of. I went to my mom and told her that my band aid wasn't working and that I needed to go back and get a different magic band aid. She thought that was funny, and told me there was no magic band aid.

Stupid nurse. Stupid Snoopy. One lied to me, the other let me down. And now I'm a grown man that's afraid of shots.