Every time I read or hear that, I laugh. The shot itself was tiny. A midge. No turkey-basting needles needed. I fell into the well-oiled machinery of the county health department setup in an empty school.
I brought stitching, but left it in the car. Just as well. I was distracted. People everywhere. Socially distanced, but there.
On drive home my thighs started bothering me as if I'd been on the road for four hours. On real road trips, it's my signal to stop. Walk around, stretch, pee, have a snack and some water. The discomfort usually retreats. Not this time. I carried on with a busy day. By bedtime I was exhausted but unable to find a pain-free position to fall asleep. I rolled around like one of those forlorn hotdogs on the QT grill. Awake most of the night, led to the next day of more if the same plus a headache. That was the worst of it, all worth it for any measure of piece of mind.
My phone's camera is going out with panache. I have no idea what this is. Some internal self-examination?
Very Important addendum. As Grace so wonderfully described, beyond the aches there was a sensation of aliveness, as if my whole body was responding valiantly to a Call to Arms. She has a gloriously triumphant mantis. My inner warriors resemble Apis, the fearsome bull-headed Egyptian god complete with medieval broad and short swords. They take no prisoners.
For fun, if you can find it from 2001, go watch Osmosis Jones.