Ouchies, Scary Things, and Why I'm Not Yet a Real Adult

I don't think I'm fit to be considered a member of Adult Society. I am the biggest. baby. ever. Something is wrong with me. I decided that I had to share this story of my embarrassing, yet uncontrollable display of childlike dependency at the doctor's office today.

OK, so I'm at the doctor. Yearly checkup. NBD. Out of nowhere, the doctor decides that she wants to give me a blood test since I haven't had one in a while. "OH MY GOSH. ARE YOU SERIOUS?! TODAY?! WITHOUT WARNING?" I mean, this is a monumental event that I usually write on my calendar in order to mentally prepare (and whine, much to Bill's annoyance). I was not ready for this. Not at all.

At this point, I begin to freak out. She assures me that I'll be fine, and even tells me that they'll use the little needle they use for babies. Yeah, because THAT doesn't make me feel like a wuss. Ok...ok...please use the baby needle. The littlest baby needle you have.

So I'm sitting there...alone...thinking about the trauma about to occur. Reflecting. Praying. Worrying. Conjuring up images of bloody torture. Yes, I understand that I'm talking about getting a simple blood test. In my life, this equals catastrophe. While I'm sitting there waiting for the nurse, I can't get the images of scary needles out of my mind. I absolutely HATE that needle box on the wall. It's ugly, and scary, and a bio-hazard, too. I'm swinging my legs back and forth from the edge of the doctor's bench (what...do you think I can keep still at a time like this?!). I take my own neck-pulse to see if I'm really freaking out, or if I just THINK I'm freaking out. Nope. This is real. Pre-panic level. Then.......a knock. It's time.

The nurse looks nice enough, even though I know that she is about to stab me. Another nurse joins her, because apparently my cowardly behavior has caused the doctor to send in a back-up. She tells me she'll talk me through it. I immediately tell her that she's my friend and that I love her. Strangely, she thinks nothing of it, although I'm slightly embarrassed by the terms of endearment I'm using for a complete stranger. After all, we're going to do this together, and because of that - she's my forever friend. Her name is Sue.

The Plan: the first nurse is going to stick me with the needle and take out FIVE tubes of my precious life-source while the other nurse will hold my hand and talk to me. Here's a re-cap of our conversation:

Me: Thank you so much for being my friend

Nurse Sue: No problem!

(awkward silence)

Me: We need to talk about something so I can keep my mind off getting shots

Nurse Sue: Oh, sure! So...where do you work?

Me: No, no. That will not do. We have to talk about something SO happy. Can we please talk about Disney World?

Nurse Sue: Definitely! I love Disney World.

Me: It's the happiest place ever. I love it so much. God, I'm scared.

Nurse Sue: Don't worry! You'll be fine. So...did you get married at Disney World?

Me: No. I wish I did. That would've been a dream come true. Hey...do you think Mickey Mouse ever officiates at Disney World weddings? Wait...that would probably be a little sacrilegious. Forget it.

Nurse Sue: Yeah. Probably. But he would definitely be there in a white tux or something.

Me: Oh my gosh, he would look so cute like that. Do you think that Minnie Mouse would be my bridesmaid? I LOVE HER SO MUCH. She probably wouldn't. She's SO popular and has lots of obligations.

Nurse Sue: Well, I bet she would if you asked her nicely enough.

Me: I suppose. Um, when we're done, do you think I could have a sticker?

Nurse: Sue Well....um....we don't really have stickers here, since this is an OB-GYN office and all.

Me: Oh, yeah. But I did a good job today, right?

Nurse Sue: You were such a little trooper.

This conversation carried on for about TEN MINUTES (I edited-out the parts where we talked about Jake the Gentleman Terrier and Care Bears). Meanwhile, the other nurse proceeded to stick me with a needle not ONCE, not TWICE, but THREE times! Yep. Three times. This always happens. I think when I hear the word "blood" or "needle," my veins close up and disappear. Oh, and remember that baby needle I told you about? That wasn't cutting it. They had to bust out the full-sized dagger.

This is the result:

EXHIBIT A (Attempt 1 - Right Arm)

Attempt 1 - FAILED

EXHIBIT B (Attempt 2 - Right Hand)

Attempt 2 - FAILED

EXHIBIT C (Attempt 3 - Left Arm)

Attempt 3 - SUCCESS!

((cue flowing geysers of pain))

...and this was my traumatic afternoon. I know I'm making a mountain out of a mole-hill...but I am a baby and this stuff TERRIFIES me. God bless doctors and nurses who help people every day, and extra blessings for the ones who have to deal with me. I'm sending the staff a thank-you card.

On the way out, my doctor high-fived me after I showed her my battle wounds.

I am twenty-seven years old.

This, my friends, is why I am still not fit for adult-living. 

Thank you Nurse Sue. Besties for life.

NOTE: All events stated above are completely factual. I only wish I was kidding.