I wound up going to see the doctor this afternoon. Turns out that Mother Nature gifted me with full-blown bronchitis for my birthday.
Doc wished me, "Happy Birthday" then drove the dagger home by commenting that given my age, instead of just giving me some pills; she was going to give me some pills AND a shot.
Folks, if your medical professional attempts to approach you with a syringe full of something called "Rochephrin" -- shoot them. Immediately.
It was a very large needle. This is because the gelatin-like medicine inside had been mixed with a like amount of novocaine. When asked, the nurse perkily replied that the novocaine was necessary because the injection would hurt too bad without it.
This is what us carefully-trained law enforcement investigative types call, "A Clue".
And, of course, due to the mass amount of ... stuff ... inside the needle, the injection site will not, I say again, will not, be in your arm.
A side note? Perkiness has it's place. That place is not when I'm bent over an exam table with my jeans and unmentionables around my knees.
And the phrase "Okay, big burn" should never, NEVER, be uttered in a perky tone of voice.
Birthdays are really starting to suck.