An unpleasant emotion brought on by the belief that something is dangerous. How I explain it… some stupidity that will consume you if you let it grow bigger than your thoughts themselves.

 

All my life, I have had a terrible fear of needles to the point of passing out. Not exactly the needle itself, but the act of it going through the skin. Even someone talking about a medical procedure would make me squeamish. In grade 7 and 8, my mom would come on the day of vaccines. I drank some juice and lay down to prevent myself from fainting while getting the injection. In 2012, when my cousin was born, I fainted at the click of a foot prick. It was enough for my head to hit the floor and for me to be rushed downstairs to emergency in a wheelchair. My most recent passing out was during the biopsy that lead to my current diagnosis. I could go on with stories, but it’s happened so many times that I’ve lost count.

 

I always let this fear control me and determine my actions. When my doctor at McMaster saw the bumps on my neck, she ordered bloodwork, a neck ultrasound, and a chest x-ray. Two of the three were easy, given there were no needles involved. Thinking of going for a blood test had me crying for days… weeks. It took a month and multiple lab visits for me to finally say the word ‘go.’ I still remember the song I was listening to.

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Next came the CT scan. This time, I had prescribed anxiety medication to help lower my nerves. Did it work? Nope. I was still crying and hyperventilating an hour before going in. This fear had gotten so large that I couldn’t control my body, emotions, and actions. Even to the point of aggression.

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On a normal day, I feel so silly; the purpose of the needle is for my own health and it isn’t physically painful. In the moment, my nerves take over and I have no sense of logical thoughts. For my biopsy in January, I spent days mentally preparing. During the procedure, I was fine until I let go of my thoughts. I lost consciousness and woke up to my mom and the doctor calling my name. The fear was able to take over without me knowing. It was time to do something about it.

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I started seeing a psychiatrist for my anxiety and started exposure therapy for needles. We didn’t have much time before treatment but he showed me how each experience could be less scary. Exposure therapy is going through a series of uncomfortable situations, getting gradually worse. The premise is that you conquer small fears so that your ultimate fear doesn’t seem as bad. Soon I was carrying a syringe in my purse and looking at pictures of injections.

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Where am I now? I have a tube hanging out of my arm and I don’t even care; it gave me anxiety for a few weeks but now it has become my best friend. My proudest moment: going alone for my second PET scan. April 17 was the first time I had an intravenous and was okay with it. I wasn’t thrilled to get poked, but I was able to stay calm and not let the needle bother me. Like a big girl, I looked the other way and it was perfectly fine. I was more nervous at the fact that I wasn’t nervous.

 

I have learned that our mind is a powerful thing. I still don’t believe how far I have come in so little time. You are the one that controls your perception of the world. If there is something that you need to do, you are the only one stopping yourself from making it happen. A fear is only as big as you let it be.