Needle-less to say…

Today I had an immunisationand it was very unremarkable.

Usually that would make something not blog worthy, but this appointment’s mundane this is precisely what made it so interesting…

Although disability does not always equal illness and I was not a sickly child, various mechanical faults meant that I had a lot of surgery as a child.

The surgery in itself was massively traumatic. I would worry about it for weeks and sometimes months leading up to admission, viewing the operation date as a sort of end of days.

So worked up in fact that before one operation (I think it was the tonsillectomy), my parents chose not to tell me until the very last second. This did not help as when I found out, not only was I stressed out about surgery but also annoyed at not having been told. I was 12 at the time.

This may seem a tad demanding for a child so young, but due to my condition, I was very advanced intellectually until I reached puberty. Then I just developed like everyone else.

This meant that as a very small child, when I sat in front of a doctor or specialist, and he or she explained everything to my parents instead of me, I would get very pissed off!

I can understand why a doctor would do this. I mean, there are not too many four-year-olds that could understand all the medical jargon, and those who think they can (except me) were probably just up themselves.

At the age of 33, I still encounter this occasionally and my reaction has not changed. Although my ability to excuse it certainly has.

Anyway, with every surgery, as with the investigation that would lead me to need it, I would be required to have lots of blood tests and needles. Again, I was not a fan.

On the way to get said needle, I would freak out. Obviously, this never had any affect so I tried another attack. Bargaining. I tried to make a deal with anyone and everyone to avoid getting the jab.

Naturally, everything took ages and that prolonged the trauma.

I should have been a solicitor because even as a tiny child I could argue a great case.

These cases never got me out of medical procedures (in which case I resorted to crying and the laying on of lots and lots of guilt), usually, they just resulted in my sedation. But, they help me get out of being in trouble quite a few times so YAY.

I remember when I was about six furiously telling my parents (as if it were a punishment to them) that when I was big, I was never going to let anyone give me a needle ever again and they could not make me!

Yet this morning, I not only went to an appointment that I made myself. I rolled up my sleeve and presented my arm without being asked. The whole thing took about three minutes, it was painless and I did not have to risk giving up my favourite doll.

Oh how times have changed…

XOXO

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