I'm currently in pain. Nothing major, but still, in relative pain. I've had three long needles stuck into my right arm and two hands just this morning, because apparently, my veins are too small. So the nurse took the displeasure of having to take a couple of tries before finally hitting the mark.
OUCH.
I've just learned what a pincushion feels.
I never thought I was scared of needles. I thought my fears were limited to rats, lizards and the like. But when I saw the thin metal unwrapped, attached to the plastic suction thing and the nurse started swabbing my skin with alcohol, I felt my stomach tying into knots and my heartbeat rising to a quick rhythm.
I almost felt like crying. Those twenty minutes I spent inside the clinic felt like the longest twenty minutes of my life. I don't know why, but I never felt this way before about getting an injection though. Maybe it was sort of traumatic as a child, or maybe I just never allowed my fears to overcome me.
Despite the urge to cry for Mommy during that horrible time, I remained stoic, masking my fear with silence.
During the second try, which only ended up with another puncture on my arm and no success at that elusive vein, the nurse attempted to comfort me. She asked, "Painful?" a couple of times in what she felt like her sweetest, most sympathetic voice while she maneuvered the freaking needle inside me.
Looking back, if I wasn't wincing so much on that stinging pain, I probably would have rolled my eyes at her and say, "DUH!?" with a flair.
But on second thought, that would be rude, and I don't want to be ill-mannered, especially not when she's armed with the needle halfway inside my arm.
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