jordan pulse -

By Atef Abu Hajar
​Every generation has unforgettable memories; some were not associated with a game or a trip, but rather with a small needle that was enough to declare a state of emergency at school. In our time, vaccines held a prestige that exceeded the size of the needle itself. Between their dread and friends' laughter, one of the most vivid childhood memories was written, turning that fear, over the years, into a smile and gratitude, after those doses proved to be the first line of defense for the health of generations.
​In our childhood, the only "official institution" we knew was the school, and the only "medical prestige" was the nurse coming from the Ministry of Health, holding a needle in hand that seemed like a small announcement of the temporary end of courage. From our early days, our journey with vaccines begins—a long series of needles presented to us as prevention, while we dealt with them as a periodic test of nerves.
​We grew accustomed to vaccines being a constant part of childhood: doses at health centers, and others in schools, where the matter suddenly turned into a collective event in which public health intertwined with public panic. No sooner was the arrival of the vaccination team announced than rumors began spreading faster than any virus: "The needle is huge," "It goes in with force," "You won't feel your shoulder afterwards."
​But school vaccines had a special dread of their own.
​I remember when we were in middle school, a medical team arrived at the school to vaccinate the students. Within minutes, the school turned into an unofficial state of emergency: some students planned to escape, others pretended to be sick, and a third group studied the possibility of hiding in the bathrooms or jumping over walls, as if we were facing a battle that had nothing to do with medicine.
​Our classmate "Amer" took it upon himself to convey "accurate information," saying with terrifying confidence:
​"The needle is a span and a half long, and goes into the shoulder like a darning needle!"
​That sentence was enough to turn any student into a delayed escape plan.
​When the vaccination started, everything was fast and confusing. When my turn came, I tried to look brave, raising my shirt and exposing my shoulder as if I had overcome fear once and for all. But the mere sight of the needle in the nurse's hand was enough to reset all my convictions. At that moment, I wished the moment would be postponed indefinitely, or that anything would happen to freeze time.
​But the needle did not wait. The moment it entered, I felt it as if it were an official signature on the shoulder—a signature not easily erased. Afterward, the pain remained for days, as if the body were declaring its own protest against an irrevocable administrative decision.
​And so the small battle ended, leaving its mark on the shoulder, and an unforgettable memory summarizing the difference between the courage of the moment and the fear of reality.
​From another angle, it cannot be denied that the world of vaccination is broader than these childhood moments. From the beginning, vaccines for polio, measles, mumps, rubella, and others accompanied us, forming the first line of defense for the health of generations, despite all the dread that surrounded them.
​In medical history, the circular scar resulting from the smallpox vaccine remains a clear example of this—a small mark on the skin, yet it carries a big story of confronting one of the most dangerous diseases in history. The method of administering this vaccine was different from modern needles, which is why it left a clear mark that remained for many years, like a physical certificate of survival.
​In the end, vaccines were not merely needles we feared or appointments we tried to escape, but one of medicine's greatest achievements in protecting human beings from disease. We grew up, the pain of the needle vanished, and its beautiful mark remained in bodies protected by prevention, and memories we recall today with a smile, realizing that some small fears were a simple price for a lifetime of health and safety, thank God.