I had my last blood test done on Monday to take a look at my platelet count. It was the last of 3 of my full blood counts that was done to monitor my platelets…having dengue and all. And I was reminded of how much I used to be afraid of needles and having blood tests done for whatever reason. Used to.
Now, I sit and watch idly as the needle pierces my skin and my blood departs from my body.
Yeah, it sounds a little grim. But I’ve just grown so accustomed to it now. That’s not to say I don’t feel the stick and that I’m cool with getting poked up with a needle. Not really. Not at all, actually. I still don’t like it as much as the next person. I suppose having been the phlebotomist myself, I’ve grown used to seeing the needle pierce the skin and withdrawing blood from others. I guess that means it bothers me less now.
I even let a third year poke me for practice once while I was on my paediatrics clerkship last December. It was also partially because I wanted to get a full blood count done in advance of my wisdom teeth extraction. There’s a very high chance that I wouldn’t have as willingly allowed an inexperienced person poke me with a needle unnecessarily. For the record, he didn’t get it, I got a huge and beautiful haematoma and got my friend to take my blood afterwards.
Now, I’ve got 4 points of entry (the last time I got stuck twice because the guy didn’t get it the first time) which will probably take weeks upon weeks to disappear. Oh! And my platelets are back in normal range.