Vancouver is a 30 minute drive from the US border (in traffic) but once you cross that parallel you're into a land of hepatitis, tuberculosis and possibly dragons. The medical took two hours each, included an electrocardiogram, taking all my clothes off and coughing, and giving blood - five vials of the stuff, more than a whole arm full! "Nearly done," said the nurse as she stuck me, which was a complete lie as I spent countless minutes concentrating on breathing and not bleeding out. But I was allowed into the snack cupboard after that, which was nice.
Hannah had it worse, with an employee-only test that involved sitting in a soundproof box the size of a fridge and pressing a button when she heard a beep (she has a very demanding job). Apparently when you're inside you can't hear anything and no one can hear you! I asked the nurse if I could take it home. Then they injected Pete with TB to see if he reacted to it. Like they do with cows! Their parting gift was six immunizations each for the adults. "This one has to go right into the muscle, so may hurt a bit," said the nurse. I didn't care; by then I was waiting for her to bring out the bone saw.
The only redeeming moment was when I was asked "are you an athlete? Because you have the heart rate of an athlete." But Hannah was told the same, which means they probably use the line to every sorry specimen who comes through, like telling you your baby's cute. We're so immunized we could survive your average disaster movie, but we have to wait a week to see if we're healthy enough to risk extended time in Canada. It's a good job the US spends so much on border defense - who knows what the foreigners might bring in with them?
Canadians?
