It's a thin sliver of metal sliding under your layer of protective flesh. If the sliver breaks, it'll remain buried under your flesh until they slice you open to fish it out. Or it'll stay in there and grow and fester and every time you move it'll cut you a bit more. Plus it's someone else prodding you. I shanked myself with a sharpened nickel and laughed. I go to the doc and I cry like a little bitch. Still. At 17 years old.
It's actually not the needle that bothers me, it's the feeling of having something injected. I can feel the pressure of the fluid flowing into my body and that scares me real bad for some reason.
Perhaps you misunderstand. I can take the soreness. I can take the stab. I can't take the injection part.
The feeling of something squirming inside me is so revolting that if I was on death row, I'd ask to be exploded or shot instead of needled.
My problem is that even knowing this, whatever these people need a shot or IV for feels much, MUCH worse. Nevertheless, a significant percent of patients will actually refuse or just plain walk out. Often to only return later and go through the whole rigamarole again. It's baffling.
Just treat yourself to ice cream later and gtf over it.
The feeling of something squirming inside me is so revolting that if I was on death row, I'd ask to be exploded or shot instead of needled.
Just treat yourself to ice cream later and gtf over it.