My biggest fear. . .

Yes. It's needles. Well, the dentist as well, but that will be covered another day. . .

They are both stupid fears. There is a term for it, but I don't remember. It means that I am afraid of something that I don't need to be. . . and I know it, but I can't stop myself.

My mom tells me I should be over it. I've had children - that doesn't just mean that I've given birth - it means lots of needles. Bloodwork, anesthesia, epidural, even a blood transfusion. And in the Navy? Shots are usually mandatory, and done in an assembly-line fashion. That's really hard for the nervous people! We stopped counting the number of TB tests . . . and I got vaccinated for Smallpox and Anthrax, and had a flu shot almost every year. . . And still I am afraid. I try not to be, because I know that people think it's stupid. And I don't want to be a 26-year-old hyperventilating (or crying) because I have to get a shot, or have blood drawn. Yes, it's really that bad - sometimes, not all the time. . . I don't think I ever cried over a shot on the ship. I procrastinated, and they knew I didn't want to do it . . . but I held back the tears.

Sometimes the anxiety starts a day in advance. On both occasions (shot or dentist) it has been a near-paralyzing fear. I have even canceled appointments because I just can't make myself go and face the fear. I'd rather appear to be flaky than to go and just get it over with.

Well, that's the back story. Moving on to current events, and the reason why I'm bringing it up now:

Friday I was supposed to have two injections; one vaccine and a regular injection (every 3 months) that is my birth control. Okay, let's be honest. I don't need birth control. There is no possibility of getting pregnant at this point in my life. I like not having a period. SO every three months I hem and haw, make myself go, and get the shot. Usually it's pretty easy to remind myself that it's only five minutes - and it lasts for three months. . .

So I was in my car, driving to the clinic. And I just didn't want to go. I left home very close to the last minute because of just not wanting to go. So I called my Mom. I was hoping for two things: one, that she would reassure me, and two, that maybe it would be okay to skip out on the vaccination. I love my Mom, but that day, she didn't help. She made me feel worse, really. When I got to the clinic, and was trying to check in, I had tears coming down my face. I was trying to breathe and get over it, and then the phone rang. Yes, it was Mom again: She told me to think about my boys. Think about not getting the vaccination, and then what would happen to those boys if something happened to me. Is it worth it to avoid a little anxiety and a few minutes of pain? That was it. I didn't really have time (or the ability) to thank her, because she was gone. . . Well, I wouldn't have thanked her anyway. I would have been sarcastic. . . . and her comments made me cry even more. Because I know that my fear is not logical. But I can't just turn it off, even when it doesn't make sense to me.

So there I was, trying to compose myself. . . and then doing the mini - interview and vital signs. I lost three more pounds, by the way. None of the weight I have lost shows, but for now the numbers make me feel like I am making progress. Anyway, back to the point. I was really trying to compose myself. I was embarrassed.

I had my interview with the medical student, and yes, we talked extensively about my anxieties. The doctor came in, concerned, but willing to postpone one or both injections. I agreed to go through with both. I don't want to be a flake, or a wuss. And I felt bad for wasting their time and embarrassed about my anxieties to everyone.

The doctor and nurse went to get the injections ready. Then they came in, one on each side of me. I drew the line. I might be able to get through this without completely freaking out, but I will not be attacked from both sides! I don't think I used the word attacked, but it was something like that. So the doctor sat in front of me, talking about my book. I was reading Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. . . I've been reading up to get ready for the movie to come out. So there we were, just having a conversation, and there's a nurse on one side, a med student on the other, both with a syringe aimed at my arm. It took so much will not to look, or scream. They went one at a time so I wasn't bombarded, and then I just laid back for a while as the anxiety subsided and my headache pounded. It's really exhausting having to go through such emotion. . . whether it's depression, anxiety, even anger. They make me tired.

I did it, though. I'm not proud of the way that I acted, but I am proud of myself for not completely breaking down. I didn't cancel, and I didn't leave. I don't know what will happen in three more months. . . or when it's time for the second round of the vaccine. I don't think that I'll get over this by then, but maybe I'll be able to embarrass myself a little less. . . Maybe I'll let them say I have "situational anxiety". . . but I don't know whether therapy would help in this situation.

So, tell me, please. Does this happen to anyone else? Is it completely irrational, or can you understand my fears? Can you look away and take it, or do they make you nervous, too? I really don't want to be alone in this.

Well, I guess that's it for now. Until next time.

~ J