Why People Are Scarier Than Rabies to Me.

People scare the crap out of me. Really. They do. Yes, I know I have Issues and am maybe not the easiest person on the planet to deal with (with whom. . . .). Still. I have Expectations.

For instance: I expect Medical Personnel, like, oh, you know: doctors and nurses, to know more about medical stuff than I do. Right? You'd hope, because, honeys, I have no medical training. I never went to medical school. I didn't even ever watch Doctors' Hospital on tv.

If I'm putting my health, maybe even--gasp!--my LIFE, in someone else's hands, I want those hands to have held many, many Important Tomes Related to Healthcare. And I want the person to whom those hands are attached to know way, way more than I do but--but!--be able to relay that information in an easily-understandable, lay-person-friendly manner.

So I can, you know, come home and check to see if they're right.

So my GP Doesn't Do Dog Bites, and Mendez, my OB/GYN, who checked and cleaned and bandaged the bite, doesn't keep tetanus vaccine (because, he says, how many dog bites do you think he actually treats, really? Imagine our hilarity in thinking about the likelihood of that and the possible attendant circumstances. Ho, ho. Oh, we were a jolly bunch.) He tells me to go to the health department. I call them; they won't do it if I have insurance. I could lie and tell them I don't and pay them $10, but I don't want to do that. Lying should be saved for when it's really needed because it's so much trouble. So you save it for The Big Stuff, like when the spies are trying to get you to cough up the Secret Launch Codes.

I have to use this as an example because I couldn't really think of an example of when lying would be worth the trouble. Oh, sure, if you were having A Clandestine Affair (are there any other kinds?) Or if you were some Secret Spy or had some big drug habit. Or a gambling addiction. Or were growing weed in amongst your grandmother's brussels sprouts. Then, maybe. But usually? Way, way too much trouble.

So I call Papica's office and argue with them and tell them they're not actually treating the dog bite; they're just giving a booster to one of their patients. They finally agree to give me the shot, and I go in.

You know me: I couldn't NOT ask why they don't treat dog bites. I ask the nurse, and she says it's because you have to go to the emergency room so they can start the series of injections.

The hair on the back of my neck stood up. Literally. Holy moly.

I try to explain to her how it works (the only time you'd start the shots immediately is if you couldn't locate the animal who bit you, or if you located it but it was dead and its brain was so severely injured that it couldn't be tested, or if it was found and was exhibiting classic signs of rabies--then they would probably rec. you start the injections even before they could euthanize the animal and remove its brain for testing. This is why, if an animal bites you, you should never shoot it in the head. Just FYI). But if, as in this case, it's an owned animal, and it's been put into quarantine, and there's little chance it has rabies, you don't start shots. You wait for the ten days. But it's virtually impossible to educate someone about something when they believe they know more about it than you do. They change the subject or backtrack or give you the look that suggests you're an idiot and just haven't figured that out yet. So I gave up.

But then she leaves and the doctor comes in. And I couldn't resist: I ask him why they Don't Do Dog Bites, and he gives me virtually the same answer. He also says they have to observe the animal for two weeks. I correct him--I know, I know: bad move--and explain, once again, how this works. When the animal is caught and identified, it's put into quarantine for 10 days. If, at the end of 10 days, it's healthy, that means you don't need shots. It doesn't mean the animal doesn't have rabies, although he probably doesn't; it means that, at the time the animal bit you, he wasn't shedding the virus through his saliva. He could still be incubating the virus, which could show up days or even months later. He could have rabies, but if he isn't shedding the virus through his saliva, something that happens rather late in the progress of the disease, then you didn't get it from his biting you. I didn't go through all of this because these were people who were shortly going to be putting a needle into me. Even I have sense enough to know when to stop.

I know this stuff because I used to give talks about rabies when I worked at Animal Control, working with the Texas Department of Health. So while I'm not up on all the latest info, I do have a pretty good understanding of the basics. Once upon a time I could quote the the first part of the dialog from the only public health video about rabies. My god, those were the dark ages: we had to use a projector. You Young People might want to ask an older beloved relative to explain "projector." Also, while you're at it, "8-track tape" and "Walkman."


Rabies is a fatal neurotrophic viral disease of the central nervous system that is transmissible to all warm-blooded animals, including humans. Hey! Pretty good!

The treatment for exposure to rabies used to be painful shots in the abdomen, something that struck fear into everyone: huge needles in your belly button! Remember hearing that? Now they're just like regular shots, given in the arm. I know this because I've had one before. No big deal (except the nurse didn't know how to give a shot and scraped the bursa in my shoulder. This would be AFTER I asked her why she was giving it so high up. She just jabbed extra hard).  

See? People scare me to death. You tell them things, and they don't believe you. Or they're offended that you told them something, and that makes them either angry or defensive or both. What you do, pretty much, is check your brain and all your life knowledge and whatever you might have learned in the course of that year you spent doing public education about rabies and talking to rooms full of county constables wearing sidearms--you check all of that at the door and put yourself into the hands of someone who maybe doesn't know all that much about this particular thing, all of this just so you can get a booster shot for a vaccine you probably don't need anyway.

It's enough to make you run screaming naked down the street. All I can say is this: The EGE and I have had enough Medical Intervention this summer to last us for several lifetimes. Sure, we're glad we have access to it and can afford it, but, man! There's only so much you can take, and the stress of not knowing if people know what they're doing is exhausting.

Yeah, yeah, I know: what I really mean is, it's exhausting being me. Pretty hard on everyone else, too. Be very, very glad you live happily far away.