Swine flu vaccine.

Yep. I said the S-word.

My job has felt like working at an H1N1 flu workshop for the past few months. I know it all, inside and out. I know the middle name of the elementary school student who died in Murfreesboro last week from the virus. I know all about the doctors' promises. I know which counties have the flu mist and when each expects to get the shot. I know state-by-state statistics. I know who's most at risk, the mantras of the anti-vaccine crowd and the battle-cries of the "How Selfish Can You Be?" group. Since the first publicized case of the 2009 "outbreak," I've been one of the evil people writing things about the virus that tugged at people's heartstrings, their fearstrings and their paranoiastrings. I work in broadcast journalism. It's what I'm PAID TO DO.

Maybe it's because I've been knee-deep in H1N1 talk for so long that I can't make my own damn decision on whether or not I want to get vaccinated. I KNOW TOO MUCH.

Pregnant women are among the highest at risk. Being pregnant hurts your immune system (and your back and your pelvis and your waistline and often your pride). And just because I NEED more things to worry about, I'm also on a powerful immune-suppressant, Humira. It's the only thing that seems to keep me from falling off the edge into total flare-up-dom. It keeps me sane, functioning, and out of the bathroom enough hours of the day to live some sort of life. But Humira, coupled with pregnancy, has rendered me, essentially, immune-less. You could put me in an astronaut suit and sneeze and I'd still wind up with swine flu. Because that's just the way I roll.

So many of you are shaking your heads asking "WHY THE HELL ARE YOU NOT JUMPING UP AND DOWN TO PUT A NEEDLE IN YOUR ARM?" And I have to tell you, I don't really have a clear cut answer. I'm not making Bill-Maher-esque statements of superiority. I'm not saying the medical community is evil. I don't think the government is out to get me. I'm not scared of shots--you sort of can't be when you have to inject yourself with medication every week. I believe the CDC when they say the H1N1 outbreak has yet to hit its peak, and that when it does, the vaccine may be the only thing keeping it from reaching catastrophic proportions.

But I also know myself. I am, and always have been, wary of doctors and their grandiose proclamations. I got my seasonal flu vaccine shot two weeks ago--the first time I've gotten that shot since I was a child--after my gastroenterologist intimidated me into submission. And I hate being intimidated into submission by doctors. For 10 years I was put on Prednisone over and over. Each time I resisted. Each time the doctors eventually got their way. And then I wound up with Osteoperosis at 23 years old. And, hey, I still have Crohn's. If I could go back I would scream NO at the top of my lungs every single time a Prednisone prescription was forced into my hand.

I'm not claiming to have some amazingly concrete reason to distrust the vast amount of medical knowledge out there saying that the vaccine is perfectly safe. I am among the--I'm beginning to think--small majority of people who understand that the shot is a dead virus. YOU CANNOT CATCH H1N1 FROM A DEAD VIRUS. If I had to tell you how many phone calls I've had to answer at work from people asking this question you would understand the all-caps.

All I'm saying is that I'm scared. I'm scared of the unknown. Of my know-it-all doctor. And, sometimes, of science in general. Science, you scare me.

But I will probably end up getting the vaccine when I can and when my fear subsides. Because I'm even more scared of being the pregnant girl who winds up fighting for her life over a case of H1N1. Because that girl would end up being me.