I don't mind getting needles much.
I'm not scared of needles. I don't make a big deal about the little pain. I don't even loathe them at all. This isn't because I get blood tests somewhat often. This isn't because I give myself Enbrel shots twice a week. This isn't even because the pain of arthritis will always exceed a little poke.
It's because of a boy with a lovely smile.
A few months ago I was waiting in paediatric phlebotomy to have a blood test. The waiting room was empty when a woman pushing a little boy in a pram came in. The pram was packed with all sorts of things a mum would need on a busy day, but what was different was that there was medical equipment as well. I looked at the boy and despite being obviously ill, he wore a large smile. His mum was quite stressed out- having had a long day- and we got into a chat. She told me she really wasn't looking forward to her son's blood test. Not just because she couldn't bare to hear him cry. Not because it pained her to see him in pain.
But because his blood would be taken from a vein in his scalp.
I couldn't believe that, but it was true. I saw from the door as two people set up for this child's blood draw. I had gotten my blood drawn before it was the little boy's turn. As I was leaving, he was being brought into the room. He gave me the loveliest smile.
When people tell me they hate injections with a passion I would never understand, I remember that little boy. It's because of him I do not feel bad for myself. I feel like I don't have the right to be upset because I met a little boy who was so ill and got blood draws from his scalp vein, but had the lovilest smile anyway.