Fear of Needles

Today I had several patients tell me they were afraid of needles. I face this regularly and because needles are a big part of what I do, I thought I might share a recent experience in hopes that it might help others.

I too have a fear of needles and someone once told me the fear of needles is genetic and that makes me feel better because I would hate to be called a wimp or something worse. Neither of my children have inherited that trait. They have their father’s stoic lack of concern when it comes to the sticky things. Let me tell you, to have children who have no fear of needles is a wonderful thing. If it is genetic then I wasted my efforts as a young mother to harden my children to them.

I had frank conversations with them at an early age. I advised them of the impending shot and its potential to hurt. I never compared the stick to a bee sting or an ant bite unless I accompanied this comparison with the description of a bee which was the size of a football or an ant which was the size of a loaf of bread. “Matt honey, don’t worry, it will just be like a bee sting…a bee this big.” Honesty is always the best policy.

I also never threatened them with a shot. It’s amazing how many times I still hear this from parents. “If you don’t do this like the doctor says, she will give you a shot.” Never threaten a kid with a shot. It’s not helpful and it brings out the fear-of-needle gene.

And I never let them see me squirm. If you have a fear of needles, never let them know or see it. And try not to do what I did once I realized they didn’t have a fear of needles. I would grab them and tell them to look the other way, just like I was doing… They would be like, “Mom, let go of my arm. You’re hurting me.”

So I am a terrible shot taker. I’m bad. Really bad. I carry on. I get angry if they can’t find the vein. I squirm. I shake my legs. I squeeze my eyeballs until they hurt and make little squiggly dots of light on the backside of my eyelids. I change orders for lab work on my charts in the hospital if I don’t want to get stuck. I don’t get flu shots.

I tried to desensitize myself by donating blood. I thought if I just did that enough times, I could fix the problem. That didn’t work and it hurt like hell. I quit donating when they stopped using a local anesthetic…

But the worst shot taker is the best shot giver and the upside to this fear of needles is that I’m sensitive to my patient’s fears and I try to make the shots I put in people’s joints as good an experience as possible. Hmmm.

But there are still patients who have to be talked through these injections. And at least twice a month I have to counsel a patient considering surgery, not for the surgery itself, but for the IV needle they know they will have to endure. And until recently all I could do was commiserate.

Over the past three months I have had to have several needle sticks for various tests and surgeries. I knew I was going to have to have these “shots” and there was no way around it. I didn’t care about the surgeries, just the lab work and the IV’s. Nothing I had ever done before had worked. The eyeball squeezing thing was getting old. The carrying on was getting old. Hell, I’m getting old and there’s nothing cute about an old lady carrying on about a needle. I made up my mind that I was going to act like a person who was not afraid of needles. I knew I was going to be afraid of having the shots, but I wasn’t going to act like that person. I didn’t tell my husband how scared I was about the shots like I usually do. I didn’t tell the nurse that I was terrible about needles like I usually do. When she asked me if I had a preferred arm I nonchalantly said “no.” She reached for the arm on the side where she had all her equipment already. I stuck out my arm without hesitation. I usually make them wait until I’ve squeezed my fist 75 times, but I didn’t do that. I usually slap my forearm and point out the vein. I allowed her to find it. I squeezed my fist a couple of times and stopped. She wiped my arm with the alcohol. At this point I usually start my eyeball squeezing antics. This is usually accompanied by leg shaking. I lay perfectly still and looked at the ceiling. There was a small stick and I felt her release the tourniquet. She didn’t say any words of congratulations like usual because she thought I didn’t care about having IV’s. Got to admit, I missed that a little. I always like a “good girl” or a “you did great.”

I decided to try it again. The next day I had to have some blood work and another test requiring an IV. I made up my mind I was again going to act like the person who is not afraid of needles (PNAN). The lab tech asked me if I had a favorite arm and I said “no” and stuck out the arm on the side where most of her gear was conveniently placed. It was the same arm they had used the day before. So what. I’m a PNAN. And later that day when I had to have a third needle? What does the person who is afraid of needles do when it becomes obvious that the best side to start the IV on is the same side she’s already had stuck twice in two days do? She carries on and refuses to allow them to use that arm, causing the nurses to have to get extra long IV tubing to go all the way around the machinery and she pouts until she gets her way and then the nurse gets nervous about having to start her IV because she’s a doctor and may be a difficult stick and so she better go find someone who might do it more often, but she’s really the best one to do it. But wait. I’m the PNAN, not the PAN. So what do I do? I stick out the arm with the two bloody holes and a bruise and keep my pie hole shut. The nurse puts on the tourniquet, wipes my arm with alcohol and in goes the IV. Does anyone have a lollipop?

So here’s the deal. We’re PANs, but we’re going to act like PNANs. And in life sometimes we have to act like something we’re not. And it works.