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Blood tests. My brain knows there’s going to be needles.. it can accept this and it knows that’s it’s not going to hurt. Much. So if I’m thinking all these calm thoughts about how it’ll be over before I know it, won’t feel a thing blah blah.. Why does my effing body spaz out? I go pale (more so then usual), start to tremble a little, and kind of forget how to move.. But that’s not the worst part. The worst part is my frikkin veins retreat. No joke, I was in one of those sterile little rooms for forty minutes once. The worst was the time she couldn’t find any in my arm, so she tried to find one in my hand. Um, hand needles hurt. You know what happened? NOTHING. NOTHING HAPPENED. Apparently my hands lack blood? Anywho, she then decided to search for veins in my arms again and twenty minutes later, SUCCESS. Oh yeah, my point. I don’t like needles, but I hate my own cowardly body more.
