The following story about me was told to me by my mother several years after it happened. Oddly enough, I have no recollection of it (a likely story, huh). First, some background. In the days that doctors still made house calls, you could also go to the doctor’s office, which in our case was in the down stairs of a large house in Berlin Heights. The doctor lived upstairs. You didn’t need an appointment. You just went in and checked in with the nurse/receptionist. Her name was Mrs. McCain (I'm not sure if she was related to Lucas McCain, I never saw her with a rifle). When your turn came, she would call your name and lead you into the doctor's exam room where Dr. Blackann would be waiting. In those days, Dr. Blackann was our family physician, as a matter of fact in those days he was everyone’s family physician who lived in and around Berlin Heights since he was the only doctor in Berlin Heights.  Dr. Blackann had a very unique laugh that Tim and I still mimic. It was what we called a "machine gun laugh". It was an Eh Eh Eh Eh in a rapid staccato. To hear what it sounded like, CLICK HERE. The waiting room was a large room that looked like it was a former living room. The furniture was light green and it was covered with vinyl. Every time you sat down or moved, it would squeak and crinkle. It seemed like every time Dr. Blackann would make a house call or if I went to see him, he would give me a shot of penicillin for every ailment I had from strep throat to a hangnail. I haven’t had a "shot of penicillin" in years. I wonder if they still make and use penicillin. If they do they probably only use it for VD or something. Sometimes if I was lucky, he would give me a white packet of “penicillin pills”. They were green and mint tasting with small white spots, which I assumed, was the penicillin. You put them in your mouth until they dissolved. Since I absolutely hated to get a "shot of penicillin", I was always relieved when Dr. Blackann would grab one of the white envelopes instead of giving me the dreaded shot! More often than not, though, he would grab a syringe and shake the little vial of penicillin then stick the needle through the dark orange circular rubber patch and slowly draw out the thick viscous, white penicillin. Right after that he would pump some alcohol into a cotton ball and rub it on my arm before the dreaded shot. Fortunately when I as a little older, I got the shots in the arm and not in the rump. I don’t know why he started doing it in the arm, but was very glad he did.  Although my arm was sore for a few days, it sure beat the other because I could at least sit down with a sore arm! The anticipation every time almost killed me, and it always terrified me!

All right, now the story. When I was a little kid and was taken by my mother to see Dr. Blackann for some childhood ailment (no house call this time), I, of course, got the dreaded “shot of penicillin”! After I came out of the office with the doctor and my mother, I grabbed a big thorn from a thin and very tall cactus that was near the receptionist’s desk. I then stabbed the doctor in his rear end with it and said, “I gave you a shot too!” At least that time, I got to give the doctor a “shot” for a change! I think he finally got the “point”. Ahh, revenge is so sweet! Eh Eh Eh Eh...