I remember Calvin (of Calvin and Hobbes fame) saying something to the affect that the doctor saw him as a pink pincushion in underpants. Well, I can relate. There's something about needles that gives me the heebie jeebies. Can't stand the things. Just thinking about them can make my stomach turn. Yeah, lovely confession for a self-proclaimed grown-up. It's not the pain (which is minimal). There's just some sort of icky gross-out factor that churns my stomach. But, I made an appointment. Tuesday. Nine vials. Fasting. It's bad enough of a full stomach, but you're going to stress me while I have low blood sugar? Jeesh. The doctor he lied to me. He said we probably wouldn't have to do the whole thing again. We'd just do a touch-up. Uh-huh.
Oh well, at least I'm not one of those people forced into getting used to needles. My head is pretty rational about the whole thing. I just wish it could convince my stomach.
Gut reactions? Not always helpful.
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