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The Human Pincushion
Nov. 9th, 2007 09:11 amI had my dentist and doctor checkups for my mission yesterday. Yeah, that was a fun day...
Actually, I expected the dentist visit to be worse, simply because every time I go to the dentist, they find some catatrosphic problem that involves breaking bone and ripping tissue and me going home with a fat face. But this time, they just did a nice teeth cleaning, took about twenty x-rays and sent me off with a toothbrush and a free sample of dental floss. Well, I do have to go back in so they can fill a tiny cavity, but it was better than I expected.
Then I had to go to the doctor for the physical. For some reason, it didn't register that they needed to do a complete physical, which means getting stuck with all manner of sharp, pointy objects. My right arm got stuck with a grand total of four needles: a finger prick, a tetanus shot, a TB test and they had to draw blood.
Now, I hate medical needles. Hate, hate, hate, hate, HATE! I've always squirmed when it came time to get shots. I've never even given blood (the thought of sitting there for 10 minutes with this needle in my arm... *jibbilies*). I've had one fairly major surgery, but they almost couldn't do it because they couldn't get the IV in my arm because I had tensed up so badly (don't show me the thing before you stick me, morons). In fact, one of the best days of my life was in 8th grade when the health department had come to give everyone a booster shot, but they told me I didn't need it because I had gotten updated somewhere along the way that I didn't remember (I really didn't care at the time - anything to offset the impending panic).
But now, they tell me I have to get my series of Hepatitis A and Hepatitis B, which equals to about five shots. Okay, fine, they can do it -- only if I get a sucker at the end.
I don't know what I'll tell my kids (when I have them) when I take them into get their shots:
My kids: Mommy, is this gonna hurt?
Me: (grimacing the whole time) Um... no... no... it's not...
My kids: ...
Me: (sobbing) I'll take you to Disneyland after!
The stupid thing is that I don't mind sewing needles. I guess if I accidentally stick myself while I'm sewing, I take the needle right out. I just don't like it when a stranger is coming at me with a syringe and I have no way to know how long it's going be in my arm.
And it doesn't help that I keep having these visions of this really old, ugly, mean nurse that gave me my kindergarten shot and I freaked out when she tried to give it to me. And that she was totally unsympathetic when she pulled me back and said "Look, you made it bleed."
And now my arm is sore.
Actually, I expected the dentist visit to be worse, simply because every time I go to the dentist, they find some catatrosphic problem that involves breaking bone and ripping tissue and me going home with a fat face. But this time, they just did a nice teeth cleaning, took about twenty x-rays and sent me off with a toothbrush and a free sample of dental floss. Well, I do have to go back in so they can fill a tiny cavity, but it was better than I expected.
Then I had to go to the doctor for the physical. For some reason, it didn't register that they needed to do a complete physical, which means getting stuck with all manner of sharp, pointy objects. My right arm got stuck with a grand total of four needles: a finger prick, a tetanus shot, a TB test and they had to draw blood.
Now, I hate medical needles. Hate, hate, hate, hate, HATE! I've always squirmed when it came time to get shots. I've never even given blood (the thought of sitting there for 10 minutes with this needle in my arm... *jibbilies*). I've had one fairly major surgery, but they almost couldn't do it because they couldn't get the IV in my arm because I had tensed up so badly (don't show me the thing before you stick me, morons). In fact, one of the best days of my life was in 8th grade when the health department had come to give everyone a booster shot, but they told me I didn't need it because I had gotten updated somewhere along the way that I didn't remember (I really didn't care at the time - anything to offset the impending panic).
But now, they tell me I have to get my series of Hepatitis A and Hepatitis B, which equals to about five shots. Okay, fine, they can do it -- only if I get a sucker at the end.
I don't know what I'll tell my kids (when I have them) when I take them into get their shots:
My kids: Mommy, is this gonna hurt?
Me: (grimacing the whole time) Um... no... no... it's not...
My kids: ...
Me: (sobbing) I'll take you to Disneyland after!
The stupid thing is that I don't mind sewing needles. I guess if I accidentally stick myself while I'm sewing, I take the needle right out. I just don't like it when a stranger is coming at me with a syringe and I have no way to know how long it's going be in my arm.
And it doesn't help that I keep having these visions of this really old, ugly, mean nurse that gave me my kindergarten shot and I freaked out when she tried to give it to me. And that she was totally unsympathetic when she pulled me back and said "Look, you made it bleed."
And now my arm is sore.
