megarielle

I’m afraid of needles. No, wait. Scratch that. I am irrationally, irrevocably, completely terrified of needles. I’ve been reading entries from people who are like “Oh, I just turned my head and before I knew it, it was done”. No, no. It doesn’t get to be that easy. Or at least I wish. I wish there was just one other person like me who had gotten over their fear and could give me some advice that I haven’t already tried. Earlier this year I got in a car accident and, long story short, ended up being committed so they had a judge-ordered blood test. I was completely composed until that point. I ended up losing eleven pounds in that struggle. It took them two policemen, five nurses, three doctors, and also three and a half hours to draw blood from me. And this was after they had already struggled with me for a half hour to inject me with a sedative. Before that traumatic event the last time I had gotten a blood test was when I was seven. I’m now nineteen. And even back then it took seven doctors and nurses to draw blood. Now, I can’t even watch injections in movies. If I even think about that needle peircing my skin my arms curl up and I can’t straighten them back out for at least an hour. No one has been able to touch even close to the middle of my arm or the whole arm cramp-up thing happens again. Sometimes even sleeves bother me. It’s not the pain. I’m a nanny, so the whole pain thing is a walk in the park. It’s the fact that it’s breaking my skin and taking my blood out. That blood is mine and I want to keep it! Yet, much of our world relies on blood tests to identify and resolve problems with our bodies. I know I need to get past that, but no matter what I can’t seem to rid myself of this fear.