Needles are not my friends

This morning I had a TB shot. I was careful to avoid watching as the nurse prepped and stuck a needle inside my arm. In some ways it’s tempting to watch. I have a fascination with any procedure done to me (however minor).

At the dentist office I’ve often secretly wished my dentist would fill me in on ALL details as he works on my teeth. What little details I do receive are like ear candy. "Oh really? I could lose all my teeth in the future if I keep taking in fifty tons of sugar a day? Tell me, how exactly will I lose my teeth?"

Of course, the interested side of me is also followed by the side that is incredibly squeamish to even the smallest amount of pain. Although this morning’s shot was minor when I walked outside of the building and saw my campus is featuring a Red Cross blood drive today I immediately thought: "No way." Had I watched the nurse poke me with a needle today, there is a 50% chance freaking out would have followed.

So why did I need the TB shot? As a part of the school of education program they need to rule out that I do not have tuberculosis so that I will be fit to take a field trip into a real life classroom with real life kids. In a few days from now I return to the nurse. She looks at my arm and lets me know if she sees any unusual signs. She will jot down on the forms I am good to go and my $17 test will be over.