My Extreme Fear of Needles Still Makes Me Cry at the Doctor's Office
As we get older, there are some things you grow out of. An absolute hatred for coffee, for example. Or that phase of loving everything from Abercrombie & Fitch. Or ah-ha! Wearing bows everywhere (unless you're Snooki, of course).
Something I have yet to really grow out of, though? My fear of needles, as I was so wonderfully reminded of Monday at the doctor's office when a numbing needle was heading straight for my underarm and tears instantaneously started streaming down my face. Not just baby tears. Full-on crocodile.
What am I? One old scaredy cat, that's what.
It's hard to explain. I know, I KNOW! It's just a little needle. I am SO much bigger than this eensy silver stick. I also know that whatever is about to go down will only hurt/sting/tingle for a second. But THAT needle is going into MY arm and it makes me uncontrollably nervous with anxiety. I am out of control and I don't like it.
Every single time, I feel like I'm 6 years old again. I'm instantly brought back to one of the many times where I sat wailing in the doctor's office cuddled in my mothers arm's for a solid 20 minutes before she could calm me down enough to let the doctor give me the Mickey Mouse shaped prick. I guess I could just never understand why Mickey wanted to hurt me when, otherwise, he's so damn friendly.
As a brief side note -- have you ever had a bad prick? You know, the kind that makes you black and blue for days? Ugh, I dread them. Personally, I'm not really into being the experimental patient for the new nurse in training. Don't you think I notice you telling her what to do and when to do it?
Sigh. Okay. I feel a bit better getting all this off my chest. Will I ever really get over this? Eh, probably not. You better believe I'm trying, though.
Do you have a fear of needles? Am I crazy? You can be honest.
Image via blakespot/Flickr
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