justvdifferent (justvdifferent) wrote,

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Needles: 2, Mel: 0

Now usually I'm not so partial to broadcasting my failings and defeats, however, when there's an amusing anecdote attached... I cannot help but divulge lol.

People who read this particular LJ regularly will have surely encountered me mentioning something about a phobia or uneasiness when it comes to needles, for any other medical equipment that's about to be used on me, and the accompanying phobia of my own blood. I'm fine when I'm holding the needle or scalpel or whatever myself, with the pointy end not poking into the intimate place that your very own blood vessels and sinews are. I'm also quite nonchalant about watching other people bleed, be they on a television/computer screen or within the physical world. I can even pick at a scab or bust a zit or something, and feel no ill from the blood that dribbles out from that. I did it, so it's okay. But the moment the needles starts pointing in my direction, or things get spectacularly bloody... well, let me recount to you all the tale of last Tuesday.

Last Tuesday, at about midday, I finally rounded up the courage to go ahead and get my blood test done. We (my gynaecologist and I) are searching for what the fresh hell the hormonal abnormalities I have actually are, so that's what the test was for (in case you were wondering). So I rocked up, clad in my bad ass black leather jacket, and hand over the referral the gyno gave me. Prolactins, insulin level, FSH levels, lipids, blood sugars... the extensive list of things she wants tested is somewhat perturbing- as if means there will be a substantial amount of blood coming out of me today. And not in that curious monthly kind of way. The woman at the desk takes one look at me, and reckons that the leather equates to "this is going to be easy". I was hoping to tough the bloodtest out this time, but as I was shepherded into the creepy little clinic room, I could feel the pulse pick up speed. I warn the lady, with an almost zen-like exterior, that I "have issues" with needles and blood. She's a bit dismissive, but takes a mental note of it.

After a bit of pussyfooting around, the needle lady realizes that being talkative and twitching is Mel's way of trying to sidestep the fact that she needs to have blood taken out of her. So I'm told rather abruptly to put my arm on the pillow, to get it all over and done with. My body doesn't really comply. Needle lady orders a crony to come in to talk to me and divert my attention, but he seems to be more interested in finding out what happens when he doesn't divert said attention. Needle goes in, and without fail Mel goes white. Like, Reflex white. All of the sudden I'm coated in a cold sheath of sweat, with my ears ringing and my vision naught but pink and red static. The telltale signs that your consciousness is about to slip away and run for the hills. Fortunately, I'm somewhat familiar with the sensation of being at the brink of fainting, so I sort of know how to hang in there. That said, by the time the needle comes out, I'm mere seconds away from crossing that rickety threshold.

I'm given a glass of water, and a lie down for about five minutes. With that ordeal over, I'm pretty sweet. Or so I think. I get up, and notice the six or seven red vials scattered haphazardly amongst all the paperwork on the desk nearby. Deep down I know they're mine, but I shake my head in hopes to fling the repercussions of such thoughts from my mind. It works for about oh...two minutes. About enough time to say goodbye to the needle lady and her useless crony, and saunter out the door. And then the ringing, the sweat and the pink strike once again! So not only did I not admirably tough the blood test out as I was planning, but I almost faint TWICE from the damn thing lol.

Thinking about it now, it is rather weird. One moment you're a tad uneasy, just watching the needle glint in the halogen light, then the next you're going through a minor state of shock. Not really a phobia, but almost a unnatural reaction that for some odd reason occurs naturally for me. Seeing that I've had very little exposure to needles (and surgery for that matter), having been vaccination-free since I was in Kindergarten, it makes one wonder where such an extreme bodily reaction can spring from. Past lives? Ghosts of memories from the womb? Weird voodoo science?

Anyway, that's my slice of blather for today. It's very early and I really should be sleeping eheh.

Sayounara! And fare thee well!
S&Mel, Queen of Darkness and Lizards
(may she never encounter an army of needles)
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