You know how some things are so traumatic, the memory sticks with you even decades later? This got me to thinking about how important back story is to a character. Really,a writer can make a character do anything (no matter how cray-cray it is) as long as it’s properly motivated. And, wow, does a childhood trauma ever qualify.
My trauma happened when I was five and had to go to school. It wasn’t the school that was traumatizing but what I had to go through so they’d even let me through the doors. Of course, at five all you know is that this is where you’re supposed to go, right? And you kinda, sorta trust your parents – my first peeps – to do the right things for you. I had to be vaccinated. It sounded innocent enough (remember that trust part?), so was I ever surprised when I found myself in a doctor’s office with a nurse and a HUUUUGE needle coming at me. I would’ve sworn it was the length of both my arms stretched wide. And no way was she going to put that thing anywhere near me.
I cried, I squirmed, I held onto my mother’s arm like she was my lifeline. And the nurse kept coming. Finally, the old witch (because by that time that’s what she’d become in my five-year-old brain, complete with broomstick and black robe) took one look at me and said, “See this needle? I’m going to put it in your arm, and if you don’t stop moving, the tip will break off and go to your heart and then you’ll die.”
No joke.
To this day I remember it all: the tears, the fears, and the utter desperation.
Obviously I survived the experience. Sort of. I hate needles, which makes it kinda hard when the doctor orders blood work. Also explains why I don’t go see him a lot. The first time I went in for a draw the dear, sweet, young tech poked around my arm and said, “I can’t find a vein. Might have to try a couple of times before I hit it.”
Right.
I left. The doc never did get a blood work-up.
Second time, Mr. Alexander went with me. And I had to lay down before I’d let them do anything. Cried like a baby while he held my hand and tried to soothe me. Poor man promised me anything I wanted (dinner out, jewelry, a shopping trip, even a cruise), and even that didn’t calm me down. Got myself so worked up the tech had to switch arms to find a vein. She’s lucky hubby talked me into staying. Probably didn’t want to have to go through it all again.
Third time, several years later, I sat in a chair like normal people. (This was at a different lab so I figured I had a clean slate from the ohmigod-I’m-gonna-die-while-lying-down experience.) Mr. Alexander was in the room with me, a few feet away. Teasing and distracting me while the tech did her thing. (What a hero!) Got through that with no tears, so I felt pretty proud of myself.
This last time was danged near perfect. 
I walked into the room all by lonesome like I’d done it a gazillion times before, chatted like I’d had way more than three cups of decaff coffee that morning, and learned some interesting facts about my tech:
* She’d been a tech for thirty years.
* Became one because she wanted to be in the medical field but couldn’t afford to go to nursing school.
* Still loves being a tech! (Which was a good thing, because any other answer would’ve shot me out of the chair.)
* Moved sixteen years ago from Utah because her father moved here, was getting up in years, and she figured he needed family close by.
* Loves living in the Pacific Northwest. The weather, the outdoors, and the farmer’s markets are so awesome in our area.
* Has children who still live in Utah, and she visits every now and then.
* Would never move back to Utah, though, because the weather is so awful. And it’s not the hot weather, either, but the winters. They’re brutal, and she doesn’t see any reason to go back. Except for her children.
And just like that, she’d finished.
I’d finally conquered my fear of needles!
Next time, Mr. Alexander can stay in the car instead of the waiting room.
Have a great week,
Melia
What a terrible thing to say to a little kid! And I’ve never had a fear of needles through something like that, but I’ve had a similar experience with the tech not able to find a vein. Unless the phlebotomist (I think that’s the term) is very experienced, like you my veins are deep and hard to find, so they keep poking. It gets old after a while!
What a horrible thing to say to a child. I was fortunate to grow up with an old-fashioned family doctor who did all the shots himself, and he had a marvelous way of doing it with kids. There were three pictures of clowns in the office. He would point to each one and ask questions like “What is that clown thinking?” And ask me to tell a story about the clown. In the meantime the nurse would prepare the vaccination. At some point my child brain felt a pinch but because I was thinking so hard about the clown it wasn’t as noticeable. Even as I got older and knew the trick, it still worked. I would simply look at those clowns and make up a story, never watching what was happening with the needle. I still do that today. Find a picture in the office to distract me.
I also have difficult veins and I have learned over many years of blood draws and surgeries to advocate for myself. I know which arm is better than the other and if I get someone who looks at my arm and says “Oooo, this may be difficult. I may have to do this more than once.” I now say, “Please get someone more experienced. I’ll wait.”
It took me several years (okay 40 years) to have the guts to say that as I’ve always the one who prefers not to make waves and wants to be helpful and likable. However, after so many botched attempts I’ve decided it’s better for both of us. I may have to wait, but it always goes better. In fact, when I go in for surgery I always mention this and 90% of the time they wait to put the IV in until I’m under so that I’m relaxed.
You have control over how you receive health care. You don’t have to take whoever is in the room. You can refuse service, demand other service, and ask for supervisors or more experienced people. You may have to wait, but it will be worth it. In the meantime try the make up a story trick and never look at the needle.
No wonder you were traumatized! Is there any way Mr. Alexander could wait in the car AND book the cruise?
I felt a little queasy just reading this. I have to turn my head every time. Good for you though, for getting over a fear!
Right? Goes to show just how much responsibility we have to each other, and especially to little kids.
As for the vein thing, I take it one trip at a time! 🙂
Thanks so much for stopping by, Eilis!
Hugs,
Melia
You have control over how you receive health care. You don’t have to take whoever is in the room. You can refuse service, demand other service, and ask for supervisors or more experienced people.
And this, Maggie, is part of why I adore you! Thanks so much for the brilliant reminder that we have a say in what happens to us, even when so-called professionals are on the other side of the conversation.
So glad you stopped by and shared!
Happy writing,
Melia
Love how you think, Jamie! Might have to see if I can use that as a negotiating tool! 🙂
So great of you to stop by!
Hugs and happy writing,
Melia
Well. . .. I don’t know that I’m completely over it. . .. *insert nervous laugh* But I’m certainly better than I’ve ever been!
So happy you stopped by, Tammy!
Hugs and happy writing,
Melia
What a horrible experience for a child to go through! Your strength of character shows through in that you are conquering your demon. Many people never do.
And what a process this has been, Sarah! Each encounter definitely makes me stronger, and for that Mr. Alexander is most grateful! 🙂
So glad you made it over, Sarah!
Happy writing and lots of hugs,
Melia