Why I Never Give Blood & Also Why I'd Never Shoot Heroine

Now, I've always get a little nervous when a doc has to take some blood for tests. I can't look at the actual needle, the actual vial, or even the my own arm with that little thing they tie around your upper arm. I avert my entire head and stare gamely at the window/cheesey poster/wall.

I feel faint and a little whoozy but usually can laugh it off with the phlebotomist.

Today, though, I went into my Dad's oncology practice to get some tests done (not cancer: specialized cholesterol and vitamin D levels he's been nagging me to do for ages and now that I'm down in Virginia over Christmas I figured I'd just have his nurses do it for me) and something weird happened.

R went first, then it was my turn.

The nurse was too nervous to do it--said something about my having "small" veins but I think she was just too nervous to draw blood from her boss's daughter. My dad came in and drew the 7 vials (okay; more than just vit D and cholesterol, but still: no where near cancer.) He took the thingy off my arm and had me hold it over my head and as I did so I looked down and saw all those vials of my blood--it was so dark, almost maroon--and then I felt faint and the next thing I knew my Dad and R were carrying me to this lounge chair they had in the office.

They said I'd fainted twice and that the second time I'd had a mini seizure. All I remember is being in the chair and then saying to Rod, "What are you doing, Rod?" as he helped drag me into the chair.

Weird.

I felt fine after about half an hour and then R dropped me off back at my parents farm while he went into town to run some errands. My Mom and I spent the rest of the day baking cookies. (I ate a gazillion of them.)

But now? Fucking scared shitless of needles.