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sabinetzinSo I had a bad experience with a blood draw today and I needed to get it out. CW for needles, sharp objects, consent issues in medical treatment, and suicidal ideation.
I am massively afraid of needles. Shots don't bother me- they're over in a minute- nor do tattoo guns- they don't feel like needles. I'm also not afraid of sewing needles, hand or machine, or pins. I don't mind having my iron levels or blood sugar taken, though usually you use a lancet for that. It is perhaps more appropriate to say then that I'm afraid of blood draws, and related things- IVs, blood donations, et cetera.
And really, the idea of having to have a blood draw in, perhaps, my foot, as is done in some cases, I don't love but can face. It's a little painful to have blood drawn in your hands, but I prefer it. I don't enjoy the idea of having an external line in my thigh, but mostly because that generally means things have gone extremely poorly. These are things I can handle.
So it is perhaps more precise to say that I am afraid of having needles inserted in my inner forearms. And more precisely than that, I am not just afraid; I am horrifically upset by the procedure. I have bad veins and have to drink water until I feel like I'm going to throw up to make the procedure even mildly bearable. I'll do it, because there just isn't another way.
I just wish anyone, at all, understood or cared how violated and terrified I feel.
We often hold up transvaginal ultrasounds as one of the worst bodily violations that is committed in the name of doing a medical procedure, but if you offered me the choice, I'd have four before I'd had another blood draw- and yes, I've had one, at a visit where no one told me beforehand it was a possibility and I wasn't offered not to have it done. People who find it triggering should be given the choice to either not have it or to receive counseling afterwards, and requirements that they be given prior to abortions are ghoulish.
But blood draws are mandatory for a lot of other things, and I end up in that chair, terrified and alone, and truly, no one cares. I've been stuck six times in one visit. I've had a nurse grab my arm and stick me while I told her no. I've been ignored, I've been treated like a child, I always know which nurse or phlebotomist at a practice is the good one. I find it incredibly upsetting and feel like I'm being victimized every time I get a blood draw. The best case scenario is one that's over in one stick, where I just have to collect myself and go. In the worst case, as with today, I end up balled up and sobbing.
Here's the thing: it doesn't fucking matter why I feel this way.
I'm an adult, with autonomy, and I deserve to have my wishes respected. I can't just not get a blood draw, but I should be allowed to dictate how I can and can't be touched. I should be able to just refuse, even if that means coming back another day or delaying some diagnostic. It is unacceptable that I should be submitted to something that I find this triggering in such a callous way just because everybody has to go through it.
But I am going to tell you, because, genuinely? I want to make you feel bad. I want someone to read this and be aghast. I want you to read it and be shocked that you never thought about it that way. Or even better, I want you to read it and realize you're not alone.
From the ages of about 9 to 26, I was deeply suicidal. I always had a plan, and it was bizarre to me that other people didn't. It wasn't exactly that I heard voices- I did, but it was separate- but it was like I had a bully in my head who told me literally every day that I should kill myself. I didn't want to die. I had goals and aspirations. The reason I'll fight anyone for any reason is I fought back against myself for almost twenty years; after all that, I'm not afraid.
So every day for at least seventeen years that voice that was and wasn't me told me I should die. Some people experience this as feelings or words of negativity, but I experienced it as instructions. It wanted me to pick up the nearest sharp object and slash my wrists. This didn't stop until college; the voice didn't stop, it just switched to jumping. Unless you've been suicidal, you have no idea what it's like to hear your own voice telling you to kill yourself, over and over and over and over, leaving you with only the choices of fighting what feels like an eternal struggle or just doing it so you can get some peace.
If you are suicidal, may I suggest medication? Not like that, it seems easy and peaceful but it's a horrific way to die, but properly prescribed and administered medication, like from a mental health professional. Works great.
I had to do things to compensate, things I learned to think about and wish I hadn't had to. I won't use a razor that doesn't have fixed blades, and I won't be around razor blades at all. I won't use an x-acto knife or have one in my home; I'm only just now feeling safe using a box cutter. And I won't let people touch my naked forearms. At all. It's a limit when I'm playing, and when I feel unsafe I have a tendency to tuck my forearms against my body. I won't flip my shit if someone does it on accident, but I do find it upsetting.
So there you go: a stranger comes at me with a sharp object and drives it into my forearm, and I am that terrified child again, just trying desperately not to die. I'm telling you this because it's shocking; it's completely true, but it's shocking. I shouldn't have to tell anyone anything. It should be enough that a procedure is physically painful and very uncomfortable simply because of my morphology. But it's not, and it never has been.
They went in through my wrist today. It was hours ago, but I still have a cotton ball fixed to my skin with medical tape. I don't want to see what's under it.
I am massively afraid of needles. Shots don't bother me- they're over in a minute- nor do tattoo guns- they don't feel like needles. I'm also not afraid of sewing needles, hand or machine, or pins. I don't mind having my iron levels or blood sugar taken, though usually you use a lancet for that. It is perhaps more appropriate to say then that I'm afraid of blood draws, and related things- IVs, blood donations, et cetera.
And really, the idea of having to have a blood draw in, perhaps, my foot, as is done in some cases, I don't love but can face. It's a little painful to have blood drawn in your hands, but I prefer it. I don't enjoy the idea of having an external line in my thigh, but mostly because that generally means things have gone extremely poorly. These are things I can handle.
So it is perhaps more precise to say that I am afraid of having needles inserted in my inner forearms. And more precisely than that, I am not just afraid; I am horrifically upset by the procedure. I have bad veins and have to drink water until I feel like I'm going to throw up to make the procedure even mildly bearable. I'll do it, because there just isn't another way.
I just wish anyone, at all, understood or cared how violated and terrified I feel.
We often hold up transvaginal ultrasounds as one of the worst bodily violations that is committed in the name of doing a medical procedure, but if you offered me the choice, I'd have four before I'd had another blood draw- and yes, I've had one, at a visit where no one told me beforehand it was a possibility and I wasn't offered not to have it done. People who find it triggering should be given the choice to either not have it or to receive counseling afterwards, and requirements that they be given prior to abortions are ghoulish.
But blood draws are mandatory for a lot of other things, and I end up in that chair, terrified and alone, and truly, no one cares. I've been stuck six times in one visit. I've had a nurse grab my arm and stick me while I told her no. I've been ignored, I've been treated like a child, I always know which nurse or phlebotomist at a practice is the good one. I find it incredibly upsetting and feel like I'm being victimized every time I get a blood draw. The best case scenario is one that's over in one stick, where I just have to collect myself and go. In the worst case, as with today, I end up balled up and sobbing.
Here's the thing: it doesn't fucking matter why I feel this way.
I'm an adult, with autonomy, and I deserve to have my wishes respected. I can't just not get a blood draw, but I should be allowed to dictate how I can and can't be touched. I should be able to just refuse, even if that means coming back another day or delaying some diagnostic. It is unacceptable that I should be submitted to something that I find this triggering in such a callous way just because everybody has to go through it.
But I am going to tell you, because, genuinely? I want to make you feel bad. I want someone to read this and be aghast. I want you to read it and be shocked that you never thought about it that way. Or even better, I want you to read it and realize you're not alone.
From the ages of about 9 to 26, I was deeply suicidal. I always had a plan, and it was bizarre to me that other people didn't. It wasn't exactly that I heard voices- I did, but it was separate- but it was like I had a bully in my head who told me literally every day that I should kill myself. I didn't want to die. I had goals and aspirations. The reason I'll fight anyone for any reason is I fought back against myself for almost twenty years; after all that, I'm not afraid.
So every day for at least seventeen years that voice that was and wasn't me told me I should die. Some people experience this as feelings or words of negativity, but I experienced it as instructions. It wanted me to pick up the nearest sharp object and slash my wrists. This didn't stop until college; the voice didn't stop, it just switched to jumping. Unless you've been suicidal, you have no idea what it's like to hear your own voice telling you to kill yourself, over and over and over and over, leaving you with only the choices of fighting what feels like an eternal struggle or just doing it so you can get some peace.
If you are suicidal, may I suggest medication? Not like that, it seems easy and peaceful but it's a horrific way to die, but properly prescribed and administered medication, like from a mental health professional. Works great.
I had to do things to compensate, things I learned to think about and wish I hadn't had to. I won't use a razor that doesn't have fixed blades, and I won't be around razor blades at all. I won't use an x-acto knife or have one in my home; I'm only just now feeling safe using a box cutter. And I won't let people touch my naked forearms. At all. It's a limit when I'm playing, and when I feel unsafe I have a tendency to tuck my forearms against my body. I won't flip my shit if someone does it on accident, but I do find it upsetting.
So there you go: a stranger comes at me with a sharp object and drives it into my forearm, and I am that terrified child again, just trying desperately not to die. I'm telling you this because it's shocking; it's completely true, but it's shocking. I shouldn't have to tell anyone anything. It should be enough that a procedure is physically painful and very uncomfortable simply because of my morphology. But it's not, and it never has been.
They went in through my wrist today. It was hours ago, but I still have a cotton ball fixed to my skin with medical tape. I don't want to see what's under it.
(no subject)
Date: 2021-04-16 12:21 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2021-04-16 02:46 pm (UTC)My husband has extreme needle phobia of all types: shots, blood draws, even fingertip pricks. He had some horrible medical experiences as a kid, then medical professionals belittled him for being a guy afraid of needles. It wasn't until two decades ago when I started going with him to appointments so I could state flat-out "He has extreme needle phobia; please work with him to make this as easy as possible" and give him a hand to squeeze that things got a smidgen better for him.
Attitudes have certainly changed over that time, so now professionals are almost always "Oh, sure, thank you for telling me!" instead of sneering. I don't know if it's lawsuits, or more patients being willing to speak up, or what, but I hope it's a permanent change for the better.
This TMI dump brought to you by being grateful that he managed to get a J&J vaccination before they went on pause, because he probably could not have done this twice, especially with the soreness in his arm reminding him of the shot.
(no subject)
Date: 2021-04-16 02:57 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2021-04-16 04:57 pm (UTC)<3
(no subject)
Date: 2021-04-16 06:23 pm (UTC)<3
And thank you for putting your experience into words. I hadn't realized until reading this that dealing with the constant "put the world out of its misery by suicide" wasn't common to everyone's youth.
Psych drugs are great. The right psych drugs are life-changing.