I’ve been phobic about injections and hypodermic needles for as long as I can remember. Well, since I was hospitalised with pneumonia at the age of 5, which is pretty much the same thing. You dont need a psychiatry degree to realise that the two thing are related. Being given regular jabs of penicillin is also a pretty hardcore way to find out you are allergic to it.
So, since then, having any type of injection has always been a bit of a trial. Some have been worse than others – I choose my dentists based on their approach to pain jabs, but in-and-out travel clinics are less accommodating of panic attacks! Trypanophobia (as it is known, amongst other things) is pretty common, though hard to get specific statistics on. There is even some evidence cited in a pionerring paper on needle phobia by Dr. James G. Hamilton that it has an evoloutionary basis. I suppose it makes some sense that humans would try to avoid ‘stab’ wounds and skin punctures, or at least be stressed by them.
Basic research (Google, obvs) tells me that my type of phobia is ‘associative’ or ‘classic’. This is where the phobia is linked specifically to a painful medical procedure or experience and is the second most common type.
The second type of needle phobia is the classic phobia. This results from a early traumatic experience during a medical needle procedure. In the case of needle phobia, it is usually a medical event that occurs between the ages of roughly 3 and 6 years.
needlephobia.com
So I’m in good company, with this affecting a large percentage of needle phobics. I don’t like having injections, being near injections, looking at needles, or even seeing them on the TV. And for those who say ‘but you’ve got loads of tattoos’, this is a completely different thing. Tattoo needles don’t penetrate in the same way, they don’t inject deep into the skin and they don’t feel anything like an injection.
So, what’s the point of telling you all this? Well, last week I NEARLY GAVE AN INJECTION.
Only nearly, mind.
My Mum had to go into hospital at short notice for some surgery. The surgery was planned, but the timing of it wasn’t – they decided at 4pm the day before to whisk her in at 7.30 the next morning. So, it was all a bit of a whirlwind. Luckily, it was day surgery and as everything had gone well, she was allowed out that evening. I went to the hospital in the afternoon to see her and to pick her up.
She was a bit fragile and a bit woozy but quickly started to improve and within a short time they confirmed she could be discharged – we just had to get the meds and do the paperwork. So, pain relief as expected and then the nurse almost casually dropped in the bit about 2 weeks worth of injections, the first of which to be given that evening, in the stomach.
Neither of us were quite sure we had heard correctly, but yes, it’s something that protects against DVT and has to be given when the patient is not able to move around. The syringes come pre-filled with the correct dose and are ready to roll. All you have to do is inject them. All. You. Have. To. Do.
Now, clearly, it is much, much worse for the person having the injection, and I understand fully how having a fear of needles is a bit silly at my age, but this was a pretty surprising turn of events, to say the least! This was the first time I ever had to hold a syringe, let alone actually stick it in someone! Firstly, while they talk you through how to do it before you leave the hospital, the simple fact is that sticking a needle into someone’s skin is not something that comes naturally. Or without, ya know, specialist training. Especially hard, I think, when it’s your Mum and she’s just come out of surgery.
Secondly, they didn’t really say how quick or slow to do it. Either the sticking bit or the plunging bit (it’s making me feel a bit weird even just writing this), so while I did actually get the needle out of the packet and hold it, when it came to it I just couldn’t do it. It felt so alien and so like I could get it wrong that I froze. My Dad, who is much stronger than me, had to take over.
Poor Mum, a week and a bit on sounds like she’s feeling like a pin cushion (two weeks is a LOT of injections), though is recovering well. Me, well, I’m hardly cured of my phobia, but I did hold a needle, and look at it and seriously consider doing it. A few years ago it feels like that would have even been much more difficult. So, progress, of sorts!
My lovely Mum.
It’s a superbly large collection, with 12 rooms of exhibits. The journey kicks off with a heavy hitter straight away; two separate Warhols set against a blood red wall. From the moment you enter, there is not one room that doesn’t contain something outstanding, and there is way too much to mention (or for me to do justice to). The warm orange ‘Made in California’ section is a favourite of mine and the Edward Ruscha ‘Standard Station’ print which has been used on much of the marketing materials for the exhibition is breathtaking in its simplicity and graphic brilliance.
It was a very cold and rainy day, so it was quite hard to enjoy the outside bits and we weren’t able to be out too long really. By the later point of the afternoon we were losing the light. We also took shots in the classroom, of eachother and of props – trying out the different settings and techniques we were being taught.
All pictures here are all as they were taken – no colour correction or post production, all I’ve done is resize them for the internet.
