Nosocomephobia

Nosocomephobia



Hummin': No Way Out by Phil Collins

I searched Google to look for the exact word that would embody all that I'm feeling right now. Here's what I've found: Nosocomephobia, refers to an abnormal and persistent fear of hospitals.

I have just been to a doctor, an old childhood friend of my mom who is an ob-gyne in UST that my mom met again in a highschool reunion after being out of touch in nearly thirty years. And even though she is so nice and polite, I really don't want to see her ever again.

Aside from the embarassment of having to expose myself under careful scrutiny, I suffered like a nervous wreck who went from fake, pasted smiles to shriveled frowns and mumbled complaints of "ow" and "ouch" in an instant.

Two minutes can last far longer than you think.

After looking inside me (think whatever you want to think), she tells me I'm fine. Then before leaving, I showed her the blood tests that came much earlier than expected, hoping and half-expecting to get a thumbs-up and a "you can go." But the smile was wiped off her face in an instant.

Apparently, my level of liver-something was much, much higher than normal. She says nothing else in the blood test results shows any sign of a complication, but usually, people with Hepatitis are the only ones who reach this level. To ease my probably shocked expression, she says there are some people who just naturally have higher levels.

BUT.

To be sure, she says I better get a blood test AGAIN and see her after I do. My mom retorted, "Again!?" and then looked at me with a smile, as if she had just successfully stolen a lollipop from my hand. (She knows just how much I dread needles.) Then, the doctor wrote an address and referred me to two specialists that I have to visit tomorrow.

Huhuhu...

Damn.

I'm currently in the process of developing severe Nosocomephobia.

Pincushion of Sorts

Pincushion of Sorts




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.