Resisting the needle: why I won’t have the flu jab

It was like something from Homer: the outstretched hands, the bowed head, as if a libation were being offered. It was not a ceremonial offering, however, but a bleep in the hands of a fellow house officer. This was seven years ago; my first job as a surgical house officer. As our stint of six months was about to come to an end, the mess president came up with the rather foolish idea of having a farewell party midweek.

The consequences were predictable. My colleague attended work …