Yesterday I had to have blood taken for my life insurance physical (after my parents promised there would be no needles), which presented me with 3 very important problems:
1. I am home alone with my dog, who hates strangers and will be a huge pain,
2. I pass out when I have my blood drawn,
3. I will be unconscious in my house by myself and my angry dog
At the last minute my brother agreed to drive up from school so he could sit with me, but he came to the house so late at night that by 9am when the nurse was here he was still in bed. Luckily, my grandmother also came, so she could hold my hand and Shakespeare could be locked in Harrison's room. And then the craziest thing happened-
I didn't pass out!
I have been passing out from shots since I was in middle school. My PCP used to take me to a different facility next door, one that usually just did blood tests, so she could put me in the big fancy chair just to give me a shot. As time went on by about senior year I was able to manage a shot while sitting down without getting too pale, and then through college I started watching my grandfather give himself his insulin. The first few times were rough, but now I consider myself mostly capable to handle vaccines like a mature 6th grader that can drive herself to the doctor. The exception to all this being a rabies shot, which is the cause of my white coat syndrome and the reason why I am afraid of adorable fluffy skunks. If I am ever bit by a wild animal, I will go into the woods and die before getting that shot.
My first blood draw was in college, I think, and we all pretty much assumed that just because I could take a shot now didn't mean this was fair game. The nice part of having such a good PCP is that they remember you and usually do their best to make you feel safe (ie, keep you from hitting your head and have the smelling salts ready). Then I had to do it at the college health center, but since I was in and out of there so often it felt like having an aunt do it (something not unusual for me, since my aunt is a nurse and has given me shots before). Never have I ever had someone miss my vein or dig around or do any of the horrible stuff of nightmares people warn me about, but even thinking about it makes me feel ill.
So when the lady doing my physical yesterday told me that she used to be just like me, I was skeptical. She said she used to pass out from needles, but when her mom got sick she was so tired of seeing her with black and blue arms, this woman decided she could do a better job and became a nurse. This is a story I love. She also promised that if she didn't get it right the first time, she would take the needle out and try again instead of digging. This and the combination of being in my own house while my grandmother was there with me somehow kept the blood in my head, and I was awake through the whole thing.
This post has gotten longer than I anticipated, but there are some people I would like to thank for this momentous occasion:
I would like to thank my cousin Patrick, who makes me look like a sissy while always being supportive of my minor triumphs. I'm pretty sure people specifically didn't tell me what the tests he had to do were because I would have passed out just hearing about them, and meanwhile, I can remember him being proud of me for learning to swallow an allergy pill. Patrick is the bravest person I know.
I would like to thank my other cousin Barbara, for inspiring me after managing to do her own blood tests without passing out a few days before (this is definitely a family trait).
I would like to thank my grandmother for skipping quilting to come hold my hand, and my brother for coming to my rescue and then taking me to brunch afterwards.
And I would like to thank John Wayne, whose wisdom about courage has been inspiring my medical management since my wisdom teeth extraction.
