Last week, I met a new phlebotomist when I went to get my monthly blood taken. She was very nice and was surprised when I told and showed her the area where it was best to take blood. I then told her it was nothing against her but I would not look when she inserted the needle. But, I would be fine afterward. However, my arm disagreed. No blood would come out until they pulled the needle out. I had to be stuck twice. Yuck. I just sighed and dealt with it. Then that night when I gave myself my Copaxone shot for my MS, it bled like no tomorrow. I just sighed again and dealt with it. I chuckled and remembered that was not always the case.
When I was a child, drawing blood was an ordeal. Like most children, needles were to be feared. Shots were to be avoided if possible and crying was generally the reaction. I remember when I was ten, I needed blood work and my mom encouraged me to look at the blood that was being drawn. That was a mistake. When I woke up, the vomit was being wiped off and I was given candy to chew on. So, drawing blood from then on was a trial. I had to lie down and not look. This continued for many years. I do wonder what the staff thought about all the trouble they had to go through just to get blood. What I wimp I was.
In high school, I needed vitamin B shots. My dad, a retired Navy corpsman had this technique which didn’t help any. He would pinpoint the area with the needle and then lightly toss it like a dart going into a target. I really hated that, but as he would have my arm in an iron grip, I had nowhere to go. I never looked at the shot or even at my siblings when they got theirs. I refused to scream but I would whine like I was a wounded animal. One time, my cat even hissed at him for ‘hurting’ me. Actually, in retrospect, his technique worked. It did hurt less. I think just the idea of being a human dart board was what freaked me out.
Then I was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis. I didn’t know that shots would become part of my daily life; I didn’t know ANYTHING about the disease. They hooked me up to IVs (I HATE IVs. I always have hated them and I have had them on and off since I was four), and then they told me I would have to give myself shots. My husband would also be trained. We learned; sometimes I would cry, but in the end we adapted. Even when I was switched to a daily shot, we did it. I slowly realized I could handle shots. Especially when I controlled where they went and it was my responsibility to prepare and dispose of them. I don’t like them, but they help keep the Monster at bay. I will continue to give or receive them until a better medicine comes out. I also realized that they don’t go very deep and most of the time they don’t hurt much. I was not going to be a squalling infant about something that was helping me so much.
Then I developed cancer. The dreaded IVs came back, and yes at times, I acted like a baby; but as I lay in bed I started watching them take my blood. It was fascinating. I finally understood what my husband was saying. Watching part of your life source flowing into a test tube was a bit unreal. Part of me was being taken away, but my body would replace it. Somewhat slowly, albeit because of the leukemia, but it would replace it. What a marvelous machine God gave me! This gave me a courage I realized I wasn’t using. Even when a line in my carotid artery was inserted (although it scared me) I didn’t cry, whine or anything. It just needed to be done.
Coping with what needed to be done without complaining had finally been learned.
I have threatened to cry if I need to be stuck more than 3 times, but I also understand that some medications make it difficult to find a vein. I have also learned that I can pretty much tell a nurse or doctor where I DON’T want an IV. But like Paul; I am learning in whatever situation I’m in to be content, and be an adult. So MS has taught me to be more tolerant of needles and not be frightened. I still can’t say I like them, just what they bring to me.
