Lightbulb

"I'm scared of needles."

I'm sure you've heard someone say this before. Maybe you're even thinking "oh, yeah, I totally hate shots" but upon hearing that, I'd think to myself, "oh... they don't get it". Because I'm afraid of needles. Like, totally.

Flu shot? Never.
Blood drawn? Never. Not even once. In my whole life.
What was that shot they told you to get before you went to college? Whatever that disease that kids were dying from when their roommate gave them it or someone in their class? I'm totally having a blonde moment/drawing a blank, but nope, didn't get that one either.
Measles shot? Mumps? Rubella? It's been at least 10 years.

Was it the hepatitis vaccine? Why am I thinking "Pamela Anderson" but also that shot they told you to get before you went off to Uni (omg am I totally pretending to be British right now or what?!)

(Didn't that remind you of "unibrow" totally? Am I getting off track? Yeah, cuz writing about shots makes me sick to my stomach!)

Okay, so before you roll your eyes and be all "stop with the dramatics woman!" let me go through a list of all of my "incidents" associated with needles and/or doctor-related things:

1. Pre-school shot. I was 3, maybe 4. I not only fainted, but I also threw up. Then I peed my pants.


2. Went with my mom to her OB/GYN appt when I was 3. Saw my mom get a blood test. Fainted. (Just from witnessing it.)


3. Got my ears pierced at 5. Fainted.


4. (don't really remember much between 5 and, say, 12.)


5. My friend gets her ears pierced at the mall. We're both 12. I throw up in the mall. (I know. You're thinking, "could the list really continue?" And the answer is, Yes, Yes it can.)


6. My mom tried to pierce my ears (2nd hole) with a home kit that I bought at a head-shop. I was 14. Nearly fainted. (Seeing a trend with the piercing stuff? I promise I'm not a gothy/hippie/punk kid. I'm as Gap as you can get, I promise.)


7. I get a shot, nearly faint, I think?


8. Blood drive at my high school. My friend wants me to go for moral support. I decide that if I'm too much of a pussy to donate myself, I can at least support a friend who is brave enough to. I walk in the gym, start to feel sick, then tell my friend I have to go to the bathroom, where I go calm myself down from nearly fainting. (i.e. hide in a stall and stick my head between my knees so I don't faint in the bathroom)


9. Finger prick, nearly faint. (And by "nearly faint" I mean, I have to lay down for a long time (10-30 minutes) before I can even leave the doctors office. Sometimes I have to put my head to the ground and the rest of my body elevated so blood can get to my head so I don't pass out. By "nearly fainting", usually my blood pressure drops SIGNIFICANTLY. My pulse will be racing, I'm sweating and clammy at the same time. I black out but I'm still conscious, literally I can't see anything but blackness and stars, I'm incoherent and can't concentrate on what anyone is saying or what's going on around me. The only thing I can concentrate on it trying to stay conscious. I KNOW. LOSER.)


10. Belly-button pierced on spring break. I have to go there drunk (on purpose, the belly button pierceing wasn't a whim while I was drunk, I purposely did it to calm my nerves) and end up puking 3 times and 'nearly faint'.


11. Go to the chiropractor, who shows me x-rays of my spine and such, I faint. (WEIRD, I KNOW)


12. Start a job with a medical company that manufactures equipment used in open-heart surgery. As I'm touring the place, someone mentions that the company will often go to a nearby slaughterhouse to pick up pigs blood to use on the testing equipment, rather that "fake blood" i.e. dyed red water. The thought of that makes me literally quesy, and I have to dissociate myself from reality for about 5 minutes to avoid fainting.


13. My best friend was hospitalized for about 6 months total over a 1.5 year time span, with a serious disease that required 3 major surgeries and long hospital stays. Often when I would be visiting with her, a nurse tech or someone would come in to get her labs. Usually I'd take that cue and head for the visitors lounge and was fine. But one time, I thought "you know what? This is stupid. I'm not the one getting the finger prick. Just stay here, think about something else, think about school, think about the weather, think about my job, think about..." and then all of a sudden the nurse tech would be at Karin's side, her hand sticking out towards them, and I realized I should have left. I was going to try to make it to the visitors lounge but even as soon as I got to her door, I realized I wouldn't make it that far. Thank God she was at the end of the hall, I ducked into the emergency staircase and was able to sit down on the stairs compose myself. When I came back 15 minutes later, she was like "what the heck happened to you?!" and laughed when I told her I almost got sick. ALL FROM THE THOUGHT OF BEING IN THE SAME ROOM AS HER WHEN SHE WAS GETTING HER FINGER PRICKED.

There are more instances, trust me, there are more. Some also involve the dentist. And suffice it to say, if you are a queasy person and are scheduled for a cavity filling, I strongly suggest you NOT eat an entire bag of Nacho Cheese Doritos before your appointment. I'm just saying.

Anyway, where am I going with this? So, in college, I took some psychology classes for fun, because my honors program allowed me to take any electives I wanted to, even ones outside of my major and outside of university requirements. I think I partially thought I was going to uncover the mystery to this stupid doctor/needle phobia for once and for all. It's illogical to think that by taking a psychology class I would somehow figure it all out, but it was a start. I even thought to myself, "I wonder if anyone's legitimately studied this?" because I'd never really heard someone talk about any doctor/needle phobia in the past (and still haven't, until tonight).

But recently, for a few reasons, I've decided I should go and get the all-out physical, including my first ever Blood Test. I'm pretty sure I have high cholesterol (now that just makes me sound gross!!) and probably mild arthritis, as both are in my genes. I also realize that it's positively silly that I avoid the doctor because of this phobia. I'm fully aware of that. I "get" it. I know it's dumb. But, it's still there. There's no denying that I haven't had 1 or 2 isolated incidences, rather, it's a real live phobia I'm dealing with here.

So, off to Google I went. And let me tell you... my first ever Oprah "LIGHTBULB" moment. I read every word of this website http://www.needlephobia.com/ and agreed with nearly every single thing I read. It was amazing. I didn't realize that other people felt this way, and somehow felt validated that I wasn't the only nut-job out there.

(Also here is the link to the research article that was in a medical journal.) http://www.needlephobia.info/pages/Hamilton-Needlephobia.pdf

I realized a few things tonight:

I avoid seeking medical attention because of my phobia.
I'm afraid that I don't voice my phobia when I'm in the situation, which makes it spiral even worse.
I'm afraid people won't take me seriously when I tell them I'm needle phobic.
I'm afraid that people will think less of me when I tell them I'm needle phobic.
I'm afraid that if/when I do communicate or try to communicate what is going on at the present moment when I'm in the middle of an "episode" that I won't be understood or taken seriously.

Bottom line is: I'm avoiding going to the doctor for these reasons, and that is not good for my health. Bottom line.

And I need to get to a place where I care more about my health than I do about avoiding the doctor because of this phobia. And while I don't really have a clear answer just yet, reading this article and knowing there is at least 1 research article by a psychologist is comforting, it's a starting point. I can at least print out the study, bring it to a doctors office with me. Maybe that would be somewhat validating.

At any rate: WOW. I'm feeling somewhat sheepish that I just wrote all of this out, but at the same time it's kind of liberating to be "outed" as a needle phobic. Without having read this article, I would've felt like a mumbling moron. Actually, I still feel like a mumbling moron, but at least I'm a mumbling moron with an article from a medical journal to back me up.

Some people have legitimate fears of heights. Or spiders. Or of being alone. Me? It's all about the hypodermics, baby!

Post Script: OKAY PEOPLE: I know that was so uber dramatic. You're SO rolling your eyes and laughing at my behind my back. That's fine. I'm laughing at me too. I'm a veritable lunatic when it comes to the rambling dramatic blog post. I apologize for the 10 minutes of your life that was just wasted.

I'm a Creep

So Im perusing a cooking magazine that my mom gets in the mail, and I feel inspired to try my hand at domestication and cooking and shit. Scrubbed out, Im in my car with the question of Farmer Jack or Meijer. Which really boils down to Bloomfield Hills prices versus Southfield prices. In a moment of frugality, I chose the crowded aisles of Meijer. After crossing off all of the items on my list, I headed to the checkout. This coincided with a sudden downpour, the kind that you can hear pounding through theroof of a huge store. As I was scrubbed out and feeling somewhat self-righteous, I scoffed at the people who were crowding around the exit doors, annoyed that they were waiting until the rain stopped and blocking my way out. So I plodded out, thinking tomyself look at me, people, scared not am I of a little dribble. Well, the Rain Gods heard my pompousness and then proceeded to lead me away from my car and up and down every other aisle of the parking lot instead, twice. God, Im a jerk.

No news is usually good news, right?

Reason #4 I Should Not Be Called An Adult - or - How I Almost Got Arrested For Assulting A Hertz Representative (Even Though I Was The Dumbass...)

HolaMeLlamoAlli: honk
HolaMeLlamoAlli: hola
HolaMeLlamoAlli: ese
linds1982smith: honk from hola-town
linds1982smith: ese, love that
HolaMeLlamoAlli: so you got your comp back?
linds1982smith: yes
linds1982smith: omg
linds1982smith: i didn't tell u the whole story cuz it was too long for text
linds1982smith: so......
linds1982smith: we land in Texas, stand in line at the rental car place, go out to the lot
linds1982smith: our key says "silver Mazda 5" and we see a dark dark gray one and we put our luggage in the trunk
linds1982smith: i put my laptop bag in the back seat, take out my binder and start reviewing my notes, etc.
linds1982smith: mark tries to start the car, we realize we're in the wrong car cuz it won't start
HolaMeLlamoAlli: ohhhh
linds1982smith: so,... i start laughing at him, run out of the car to take a pic as he's unloading his bags from the wrong rental car
linds1982smith: TOTALLY forget my laptop bag in the back seat, which still has the laptop in it
linds1982smith: we get in the correct car, drive off to Mexico
HolaMeLlamoAlli: ohhh shoot
linds1982smith: visit with the Mexicans for a couple hours, drive to the hotel to check in
linds1982smith: as we're getting our bags out of the car, i immediately realize i dont have my laptop
linds1982smith: we high-tail it back to the airport to the rental car area
linds1982smith: other mazda 5 is gone
HolaMeLlamoAlli: how far away is mexico
HolaMeLlamoAlli: shuttt up
linds1982smith: i start sobbing (okay not really) and we go inside to the booth
linds1982smith: tell her the story...
linds1982smith: she's like "well i don't know what car that was, who has it, etc.etc>"
HolaMeLlamoAlli: omgina
linds1982smith: i pull a knife (okay, not really) and convince her she can look up the info
HolaMeLlamoAlli: lolol
linds1982smith: she sighs, calls her boss, he sends her a 15 page report of all the cars that we checked out that day
linds1982smith: she goes over them slowly, sighing loudly so we can hear and showing us what a long list it is
linds1982smith: i'm like "okay bitch, i know you wish that you could just sit and flirt with hor-hay-osa, but do your g.d. job!!"
HolaMeLlamoAlli: LOLOLOMG
HolaMeLlamoAlli: i am dying
linds1982smith: she found what she thought was the car, and called the ph # on record
linds1982smith: Thank f-ing God they had the bag
linds1982smith: dropped it off at the lobby of another hotel
linds1982smith: and we went to pick it up
HolaMeLlamoAlli: wow
linds1982smith: i sobbed some more, stroked the computer, and told it never to leave my side again


HONESTLY : Would this happen to anyone else?! I love business trips!!

There are a few things that happen, without fail, with a somewhat structured frequency that I somehow manage to completely forget about. Then when they happen, I'm like "Oh, yeah! [Sample event] occurs every [insert frequency]! And I always seem to forget about it!!"

A few examples, in a dashed list, as I do not know how to use bullets in HTML and am too lazy tonight to figure it out...

- Taxes. Every year, without fail, I get a wad of money back. You'd think that this positive activity would reinforce the feelings of glee when all of a sudden you're $2000 richer. (Or... you get back the $2000 that you earned but was taken away from you... either way.) and would make me anticipate the next such occcurance. But not so much. I'll get that thin envelope from my employer every year, same time, and wonder what in the hell they are sending me that would be only 1 page thin. I open it up, wonder why they sent me my payroll information, then start sweating with excitement that, Oh Yeah! Tax Refund!!

- Another thing: sunburn. It's as though every August or September, the memory of sunburns past is just wiped from my brain. Every day I couldn't sit on the toilet cuz of the bad burn I got on my ass, or had to free-ball it (no bra) because the thought of anything touching my back that wasn't made of, say, baby butt skin or the whisper of a fairy or something, made me cry for my mommy. All the knowledge I re-learned that summer of 1) yes, you can get sunburned through clouds or 2) if you're going to a Tigers game and are sitting right in line with the sun, you should bring SPF or at least fork over $10 for some at the concessions (yes, they sell it at Comerica Park) or even 3) don't untie your top and loosely let it drape over your breasts in your backyard cuz maybe the kids from the 'hood (the neighborhood, dumbass) would use your backyard as a shortcut and maybe get too much bang for their buck (their buck being, of course $0)... anyway, yes that was/is a long long run-on sentance and #3 had nothing to do with lessons learned about sun exposure and yes, this sentence is still not finished and what the fuck woman, I hate you stop talking!

Yes, sunburns. I seem to have to re-learn the hard way every fucking year.

- The Curse. Aunt Flo coming to town. The Crimson Wave. "Menstruation." While this is a much more frequent event, I still seem to be oblivious to it every fucking time. "Oh, I forgot how crippling cramps are and how I pretty much want to dieeee one day every fucking month." Hence the name "The Curse." And while I still don't understand how bad it must hurt for a guy to be kicked in the junk, I don't at all have any sympathy for your pain, as we must endure this 12 times a year, and some of us who choose to procreate have to endure much much more tragic things to our girly bits that I won't even discuss, nor am at liberty to discuss as I haven't gone through that process. At any rate, I still suffer from short term amnesia when it comes to my monthly uterine duties.

On that note, now that we've gotten all personal... how you doin'?? ;)



--Post Script--
I just realized I had a blog that was in Draft status, not sure why, but I posted it. Here it is, in case you're stalking me... http://lindsmith.blogspot.com/2005/12/honestly-this-will-be-my-last-listpost.html

Omg if I read one more g.d. story about stupid James Frey and his dumb memoir/novel/whatever it is, I'll have to shit on my computer. Not "vomit a little in my mouth" but shit right on the gloriousness that is my Dell Inspiron's soundless keyboard. I was about 1/3 into the book when a friend sent me the link to the Smoking Gun thing, before it made huge news, and I sort of dismissed it cuz that site's a little crazy. Turns out they're not so crazy afterall, and it totally made me not want to finish the book because of all the commotion. But what a boring paragraph, I just realized!

I'll be on a plane to Hawaii in like.... doing the mental math.... 30 hours? Something like that? Whooooo-hoo!

linds1982smith: so you're single?
linds1982smith: how rude, i didn't even ask
Sandman302: yeah, im "out there"
linds1982smith: out there like single?
Sandman302: yeah
linds1982smith: well that's fun
linds1982smith: any prospects?
Sandman302: nah, just kinda doing my thing
Sandman302: whatever that thing is
Sandman302: having a geef is overrated
linds1982smith: the internet, poker, video game thing, occasional masturbation
Sandman302: LOL
linds1982smith: i know how it goes... : P
Sandman302: i seroiusly about spit water on my screen
Sandman302: very nice
linds1982smith: lol
linds1982smith: sometimes i whip up something good like that
linds1982smith: that was a gem, i must admit

So I don't really understand the whole phenomenon of "Absense Makes The Heart Grow Fonder" or whatever dumb cliche it is... but I believe it. I just like to call it Vacation Syndrome. Someone goes away for a while, and then suddenly you want to tell them what you seasoned your dinner with and how many times you sharpened your pencil at work and dumb shit like that, when usually you cherish your "Me Time." Big Whatever. And it totally puts a smile on my face when he happens to be in a foreign country that has keyboards with Y and Z switched, so you get an email that looks like this:

Lindsaz - (Im going to tzpe mz waz, screw this kezboard)
Did I tell zou I love castles? A LOT? Zou will realiye this when zou see mz pictures.
When do zou flz in on Mondaz? Are zou flzing with zour mom? If not, I can pick zou up from the airport if it is after work, and show zou all mz pictures and catch up. Let me know, I can not wait to see zou again...

(Aww, someone can't wait to see me?? WTF?)

Speaking of Europe... when I lived in Germany, we had a bidet in our house. I had no idea what it was, no one in our house used it ever, only as a prop to hold up my pre-pubessent hairy legs when I shaved them for the first time. (Ahh, memories.) Anyway, so I totally would use the bidet if I lived there now. Honestly, I've had this conversation with numerous people, all of whom give me a weird look, but their non-interest in this topic makes me think THEY'RE the weird ones. So here's the conversation:

Every day, you shit. Shit comes out of your body. Fact.
Another fact? We wipe our asses dry with toilet paper.

Picture this (THEORETICALLY): You accidentally get shit on your hand, or arm, or something. Would you just wipe it dry, with a dry paper towel? Or let's say you step in mud while barefoot. Do you just dry your foot off on the grass and not actually wash it clean? People are so paranoid about using anti-bac at the thought of touching a quarter or a menu. BUT THEY ARE WILLING TO JUST WIPE SHIT DRY ON THEIR ASSES???

I don't get it. If I had a bidet, I would wash my ass every damn time I took a shit. And you should wish to do that as well.

Ahhh, I just sound like a pervert now. If not a pervert, then at least a weirdo for having thought that out.

Uhhhh, there's no redemption for this post after that, is there?

You know what is a super gross feeling? Seeing someone walk behind their boss, dejected, into a conference room knowing that they're going to get laid off. Especially when you make eye contact with her, and her eyes are already red because she knows why her boss has asked her to follow him because that's what happened to four people yesterday, and another guy this morning. She'll go in that room, learn that she has 3 days of work left and that Friday will be her last, and she'll know that she won't be offered a severance package because she's not really a true employee there anyway, just a contract employee. And that if the mortgage or rent is due in 3 weeks, oh well. It's a horrible, horrible feeling. It's one thing to read about it in the newspaper or even hear others' tell the story about how it happened at their job, but to look into her eyes and see that hopeless glance really made me sad today.

---

So, I love having a blog because it allows me to say things to people without actually having to say it to them. I mostly - like 97% of the time - write things on here for my own memory, for my own amusement, or for your amusement. But sometimes I use it as a means with which to communicate what I don't want to do face-to-face or even blatantly. It's cowardice, but better than nothing. Throwing something out there that would make me nauseous if I sent an email or, God forbid, picked up the phone to say is slightly comforting; the problem therein lies in not getting any feedback, whatsoever. I'm never even positive that the correct audience ever read it. And if he or she did, that he or she knew it was for him or her. Okay fuck this pronoun game.

But I guess it's my own perogative, what I write and why I write it. And now that I've laid down that blogger-diarrhea, and actually didn't disclose anything, I'm out. Maybe I'll get drunk tonight and say some things I'll wish I hadn't. Byeee!

Umm can we talk for a second about how celebrities are stealing my baby names!? Granted, it's not like I'm with child, will be with child in the near or not-near future, nor am even getting laid thus the possibility of conceiving a child, BUT. First it was Britney - who I love, don't get me wronte - with SEAN. Umm, hi, that's MY baby name. NOW, I read that Ange-fucking-lina is going to name her son WILLIAM. UMMMM No you di'nt. NO YOU DID NOT. I hope that her baby turns out to be a girl, that by the grace of god a sonogram showed the girl with her hand down at her crotch looking like a baby penis or something. Now all I need is Katie Holmes and her manic gay boyfriend to decide to call their baby JAMESON and I will shoot up the internet with a bb gun. That's all!

Self-protect/overdrive
Hide, do not seek
Self fulfilling prophecy
At least I'm calling the shots.