Hugs Not Drugs

I could never be a heroin addict or do any type of drug that requires me (or someone else) to inject it into myself via needle. Not because drugs are bad or could ruin my life or like in those after school specials where the drug addict loses their family, friends, homes and get so high they jump out a window (because they think they’re a bird and can fly) and die. No, it’s because I just really, REALLY don’t like needles. Just to clarify, I’m not the type that if I have to get blood drawn at the doctors office I go into a full on panic attack or burst into tears. I just squeeze my eyes shut and death grip whatever I’m holding in my other hand until the horrible experience is over.

Another thing I can’t do is watching other people getting blood drawn or being stuck with needles. A few months ago my dear mom had to have foot surgery and I stayed with her while the nurses prepped her. As I was sitting there I briefly zoned out (it was at the ass crack of dawn and I’m not much of a morning person) when all the sudden the nurse stuck mom with the needle for her IV in HER HAND. So, mom thinks this is hilarious, since she knows I’m not a fan of needles, and starts waving her hand around, needle wobbling about while she laughed and I nearly passed out. No, she wasn’t even drugged at this point.

A few days ago I had a follow-up doctor appointment (not for the recent Nerf gun attack to my eye) and they had to draw some blood and make sure my blood stuff are at the levels they’re suppose to be. There’s also something about my thyroid possibly being an asshole, I wasn’t entirely listening; just wishing this whole stab me with a needle thing would hurry up and end. The nurse inspected my left arm and explained that she’s really good at finding veins. So good, in fact, she could do it with her eyes closed. (She totally tried it too). She then inspected my right arm when leftie was all ha-ha can’t find my veins! Rightie copied leftie and the poor nurse had to accept defeat and debated about sticking me in the vein along my forearm or hand, meanwhile telling me she doesn’t like that stick people there and hasn’t done it in a really, really long time. Fear overcame her and she decided a different nurse should do this procedure.

At this point I was hoping they would ask me to come back later but nurse Ratchet was more than happy to accept the challenge. She inspected both arms, forearms and the top of both hands. She then told me stories about how sometimes she has to stick people in their feet and laughed when my already pale face became even paler.  She also told me stories about her days as an EMT and how they would do a procedure (mostly on babies and oldies) where they would draw blood by corkscrewing the needle into the victim  patients bone just to draw blood. She then decided the vein on the top of my hand was suffice and told me to squeeze the mini football in my hand while she jabbed my hand with the needle. She also had to keep reminding me to breathe because she didn’t want me to pass out. After about an eternity she told me she was finished and I swear it felt like she dug the needle deeper into my hand. I asked her why she didn’t take the it out because it still hurt and she laughed and said she took it out. I could feel her moving the cotton ball on my hand and with all the courage I could muster I peeked with one eye and noticed she did indeed take out the needle. Even though I told her it still felt like a needle was being stabbed into my hand, she kept pressing the cotton ball onto my hand while she put a bandaid on my tiny but painful wound.

I didn’t even get a lollipop.