I wonder if, while my mother was pulling all these pranks on her children, she ever stopped to consider that they might backfire on her? That’s a rhetorical question because the answer is, “obviously not”. What the Hell, man? I could never possibly fit all this stuff into one book, not even one set of books…
So. I needed my shot records. Everybody has shot records, right? I mean, they do, don’t they? The university told me I could go to my high school to get them no matter how long it’s been since I graduated because those are files they have to keep. Well, okay. I should have known- any time I have to journey back through my past, I find some tidbit of information that purely enrages me and the fact that I do everything the hard way anyway, why in the world did I think this was going to be easy?
Silly me. Turns out, no I don’t. There are notes all over that file depicting times and dates the school called my mother pleading for those shot records and apparently, in 1978, she made up a story over the phone and they accepted it. Knowing my mother, though, it is more likely she manipulated them and they didn’t even know they got duped until after the fact. She is good at that. shotrecordorlackthereof
As soon as I received the email from the Courtland High School Registrar, I called the Radford University Health Center. You see, that was a big to-do also because I went slam off when they told me I needed my shot records in the first place. They sent an email on October 30 at 3:49 pm stating that I had until October 30 to comply with the request. Really fucking convenient since they close at 5pm and I saw the email at 6pm. If you know me at all, I don’t even have to tell you how that next phone call went. Anyway, so, the email from Courtland stated, “I don’t know how she got away with this, not sure what the rules were back then but, this is all I have…”. Jesus Fuck, I tell you. J-e-s-u-s F-u-c-k!!
I said, “I just got this email, I am looking at… actually, I don’t know what I’m looking at, but it isn’t my shot record. I don’t know what to do, by the looks of it, I don’t have a shot record.” The doctor in Fredericksburg was hunting for them and with that one email from the Registrar, I replied back for him to stop looking, he wasn’t going to find them because there is a good chance they don’t exist. The implications of that go farther past my wildest imagination. All those mysterious little illnesses I had in the 90s when no one could tell me what was wrong with me and go one step beyond that. What if… just what if… measles? mumps? rubella? Shit that’s highly contagious, a bitch to treat, people die from, but can be avoided altogether with one fucking shot??? Lord have mercy, I would be haunting that crazy bitch if that were the case.
Standing in that Health Center, filling out paperwork, admiring the buckets of condoms all over the place. I started to take some just because, you know, free shit is free shit, even if it’s a condom. Anyway. I kept shaking my head, “I can’t belie… yes, yes I can believe this. I just can’t believe… yes… yes I can… I can’t belie… just, WTF dude?”
And I seriously still can’t believe that shit.
Radford fixed it but I still want to call that crazy bitch and ask her simply, why? No way in Hell will she tell me they messed up or they must have lost the records or this, that, or the other thing because no one who should have those records has them. They didn’t throw them away. There was no some mass conspiracy to get rid of my records. They don’t exist and I simply want to know why.
I also find it very difficult to believe that she would have vaccinated her other children and not me. I mean, it is no secret that I was the hated one since I made my grand entrance on Sunday, October 3, 1971. (I was also conceived on a Sunday also- if that crazy bitch would’ve just carried her ass to church, we wouldn’t be having this conversation now) She did everything in her power to make sure I knew she did not like me, did not want me, and was just genuinely not nice to me but with that said, it doesn’t fit her modus operandi. My mother didn’t take care of any of us, I was not special in that situation, but where her love was concentrated, it was certainly not on me, at all, ever. I have made peace with that- I had no choice but to. My sisters and brother have always hated me and that used to tear me up until one day it hit me like a ton of bricks. They will never want me. Neither will my mother. It’s beating a dead horse- done with this shit. I was 30 when I made that revelation and I’ve never been happier. I still get mad and rant about past stuff but it doesn’t consume me like it once did. On that note- there is a good possi… you know what? This whole paragraph is full of cliches and adages. Anyway, there is a good possibility that my brother and sisters are not vaccinated either. As we get older, immune systems break down and become more fragile and with all the anti-vaxxers running around procreating human petri dishes, that would be some shit for one of them to get sick with something that was eradicated but making another appearance only to find out they were never immunized against it.
Here’s a disclaimer for you: I am not an anti-vaxxer and I am not an anti anti-vaxxer but some shit like polio and stuff have no place in our society because they were already eradicated and those shots can take all that credit. Flu shot? Not so much. I know a lady whose husband got a flu shot and was dead a week later. Not saying that shot did it but, okay yes I am. I’ll take my chances.
And the most uber-fucked up thing about this whole situation is, I think I should tell my brother and sisters the position in which they could potentially be. There is a test that can be done to find out what your blood has immunity to- I think they should have that test. Here’s the thing- they don’t speak to me, why should I care what they die from? Sooner the better, right? But I think they have the right to know that.
I sent my niece a message, maybe she’ll read it, maybe she won’t but it won’t be my fault if she doesn’t… right?
Who am I kidding? Find my nest of salt, everything’s my fault. I’ll take all the blame, aqua sea foam shame.