Drawing forth

30 Years Ago

A feeling of utter fatigue ravaged my entire body and I laid nearly dormant on the couch. After a few days of not eating, I was taken to the hospital where I was diagnosed with pneumonia. The doctor recommended that I be admitted immediately.

Since I grew up around hospitals (hell, I was born in one ;) ), I didn't see it as that big a deal. I used to stop after school when it was possible for children to walk the streets and not get abducted by some weirdo on the way home. (Either that or it just wasn't that important a news story to the media back then.)

Anyway, I went in and I should have known there was a problem when the nurse went to draw blood and didn't hit the vein...twice. I recall issuing the decree that the next chance was her last chance...somehow she got it. Guess the third time really IS the charm!


At that point, I wasn't fearful of needles.

Then came the insertion of the IV.

Let me tell you that the human body isn't receptive to receiving a concentrated dose of potassium all at once. How do I know this? Because as soon as it was administered, severe pain shot up and down the entire length of my body...on the inside.

Quizzically, the nurses (and my mom, who was also a nurse) asked me what was wrong.

Pain. Excruciating. All over. Ow.

Oh...they forgot to shake the bag of fluid up first. Just a slight problem that might have killed me. No harm, no foul, I suppose.

9 Years Ago

I was again feeling a bit fatigued and decided to go to the doctor's. They wanted to draw blood and, of course, it was a fasting test so I had to avoid any nutrients whatsoever for 12 hours. What I lacked in food and drink intake, I made up for with abject fear. For some odd reason, I became terrified of needles. Can't imagine why...

I went into the office and, even in the preparation of drawing blood, I turned my head so that I wouldn't have to take eve the slightest gander at the proceedings. All would have been well until...

The nurse decided to bring the vials into view.

The next image I saw was four nurses standing over me while I sat in the chair, waking up. I knew that it wasn't a dream because they would have been hotter nurses, scantily clad with cleavage spilling out. Instead, they were all in their 50s or older. I'd passed out, mostly from fear, but also the end result of seeing the blood.

5 Years Ago

It was time for the dreaded surgery. Although it was only to place a tube in my ear due to annual painful earaches, I still had to have blood drawn once again before going under. This time, I warned them about my penchant for slipping unconscious when a metallic object is inserted into my open vein. They heeded my advice and let me lie on a table. This time I was woozy but didn't really pass out. I did, however, have to lay there for a bit afterward.

This time, they had trouble finding a vein but were eventually successful in locating one. I remember thinking, "Wow. Good thing they didn't have to go in through the one in my hand as I sometimes see in movies and on TV because then I would really freak!"

Guess where the IV went for surgery?

I made it through that, though (obviously since I'm writing this), but not without flexing my hand to kind of get used to it and feel the pinch. It was not a pleasant feeling.

Today

Went for a check up last week and the doctor wanted blood work done.

Last night, I was supposed to fast beginning at 10:45 as it would have been exactly 12 hours before my blood was to be drawn.

However, since I last ate at around 6, I thought it might be wise to not fast for 18 hours since that fear level ramps up my ability to take immediate, unplanned naps when undergoing that procedure.

I decided to have some Pepsi and just a few chips with con queso dip. My mom remarked that I shouldn't be eating when I have to fast. What? Is the physician going to be concerned with the sudden spike in my nacho cheese level? Is the remedy for that a nice balance of salsa? I highly doubt that a few chips will send the lab into code red.

So today I trudged to the office, vein in arm, and really wasn't fearful. I suppose I've become somewhat desensitized to the whole ordeal. I know it's not a terrible process and that my fear overwhelms me more than anything else, but it's becoming easier to deal with.

Perhaps it's just a way of letting old fears slip away. Maybe I've realized over the past few years that emotional pain causes more damage than just a little pinprick and I'm becoming comfortably numb to being jabbed with needles. Or maybe flipping those cadavers a few years ago had some effect on truly desensitizing me.

Cadavers, you ask? Well, that's a story I may draw forth at another time. ;)