Wednesday, June 3, 2009

lesson in needlework



I wish it were socially acceptable for a 22-year-old to cry at the doctor's.

I've always had a big fear of needles. I'm not sure when it started, but it goes back a very long time. I think it might have something to do with the nurse who told me, as an inquisitive 5-year-old, that the shot wouldn't hurt. . . and we all know the ending to that story. I felt lied to. And from then on, I hated nurses, doctors and needles. I was usually a healthy child and didn't need to visit the doctor much. In fact, after I got most of the required shots, I don't think I went much at all. However, the times I did go, my parents actually bribed me. Now, that probably sounds ridiculous to most people, who by the age of maybe 8 have grown up enough to understand proper etiquette at the doctor's office, but it's true, I was bribed. When my parents decided they wanted to spend a year in Romania as missionaries I had to get more shots. The bribe? American Doll books I'd been wanting for quite some time.

My most embarrassing doctor's moment occurred at the age of 12. My parents wanted me to get blood work done to see if I had Celiac's Disease, something my mom had been diagnosed with. Needless to say, I wasn't enthused about the visit, but somehow found myself in the office. Please let me explain exactly why I do not like needles or blood work. Even though the actual pain is minimal, there is logic to my fear and loathing. First of all it's the prep work that begins the frightening process. The snapping of that terrible little armband that proceeds to cut off your circulation and make your veins juicy for the pricking. Then there is that quick swipe of alcohol, and before you know it, they're asking you silly questions that are supposed to distract you but don't, and you feel that sickening stab and all you can think about is that there is a giant needle in your arm and it shouldn't be there.

Back to my embarrassing moment. Of course they began to prep my arm for the savage injection, and fear began to overwhelm me. Most kids would probably have whined or asked how much it would hurt, but I responded in a much more direct manner: screaming and kicking. I wish I was making this up, but I'm not. I can't remember all of the details, probably because I have tried to erase the memory, but I do remember that my parents actually had to come into the room and hold me down while they took my blood. Yes, at 12 years old. The doctor asked my parents, and I quote, to 'Please control your daughter.' I'm quite sure he had much more to say, but I've also long since forgotten.

Fast forward 10 years. I've decided to spend some time in Honduras working as a missionary at an orphanage. There are of course medical precautions to my stay, including the consumption of malaria and typhoid pills, as well as shots and blood work. Yesterday I got my blood work done. I had been dreading the appointment ever since it was made, but knew it was essential and was determined to suck it up. I sat down in the chair, my body feeling a bit weak and my mind spinning at top speed. The nurse began pulling vials off of a small shelf, not one or two, FIVE. I wasn't sure if that meant I'd have to fill all five of them with my blood. . . I was hoping not. I waited. . . the dreadful prep work began and my arm throbbed beneath the arm band. Of course the questions began too and I felt the sickening jab of the needle and tried to concentrate on the fact that it would be over soon. I didn't even answer half of the questions because I was so intent on getting out of there. And I did, of course, without much damage, except that my arm did hurt.

I'm glad I've learned to suck it up when I have to. It would have been a bit silly to cry and scream, especially at 22. I've learned, and continue to do so, that life isn't always pleasant. That doesn't mean we have to make a big deal about it though. Really it means somethings are painful and difficult, but that's just part of living and in order to live life to the fullest, we have to take the bad with the good. I don't have to enjoy getting blood taken or shots, but I do have to do it, without a fuss. It's for my benefit anyway.

-Hannah

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