Back when I was pregnant with my daughter (14 years ago), I had this huge fear of needles. Who am I kidding; I still do. I am (and was) deathly afraid of needles. Now I put on my Big Lady Pants and go to the doctor, dutifully hold out my arm and wish them "good luck." Of course, every single person-whose-job-it-is-to-draw-blood swears she is "good" and will get it "first try." And, of course, there's three or four tries, muttering, conferring with other nurses and rolled veins before they tell me to head over to the drop-by blood lab to let those ladies (who never seem to have a sense of humor) jab me with a needle. I'll tell you this: Those no-humor ladies surely can jab. It might take one or two tries of dealing with my rolling veins, but they get it. Anyway, I used to build up blood drawing in my head so much that my husband would take off work to escort me to the doctor to calm me down. I always made it worse by panicking and having swe...
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