|Nothing to do with story, |
but you just don't often see a silver-washed fritillary
What am I waiting for?
On my form from the college nurse, it was expected that I had received BCG (yep, a regular matter during my schooldays, although not any longer);
two doses of MMR (nope, this was something that I heart-searched about submitting my babies to, not something I had experienced myself - I wrote on the form that I have had the illnesses themselves but not the vaccination);
lastly, Meningitis C (a vaccination not invented in my day - always makes me think of Mel C from the Spice Girls, but I understand it’s far less pleasant). I had no alibi for this one, so rang up for an appointment.
I haven’t watched any of those gruesome autopsy-based shows, so I don’t know whether you can tell the age of somebody from the vaccination marks on their arm, but you can certainly date them from their vaccination record.
I haven’t had a vaccination for absolutely ages and as I sit here pondering this, I remember that I’m not terribly fond of needles.
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