Yesterday, I had my needle reaction triggered by something that wasn't a needle.

That's the first time that's happened, and it frightened me.

I thought about it for the rest of the day.

My brain, it is like my messy room.

When something smells funny, I root around until I figure out what it is, and deal with it.

When I have a peculiar reaction or feeling, I root around in my brain until I figure out where it stemmed from, and deal with it.

But this needle thing...

I can speculate. I have many speculations.

But none of my speculations have made me sit up and go: Ah! That is why I react that way!

When I am faced with a needle, and it touches my skin, I begin to cry.

I do not feel afraid, exactly.

When I am faced with an approaching needle, I will tremble and start to hyperventilate a little bit, but as soon as it touches my skin, that all stops and I start to weep.

I mean, I am a crier at the best of times, but rarely do I just weep.

Once that trigger has been flipped, I go limp and cry like my heart is breaking.

I cannot explain it.

I thought about it for a long time.

The best explanation I can come up with starts when I was a kid.

I mean, I was in and out of hospitals from as early as I can remember, until I was about six or seven (I had my kidney out when I was five).

I got a lot of needles. I don't remember being afraid of needles then. I have very choppy, disjointed memories of those times, but very few are associated with pain or panic.

That being said, last year I mentioned one procedure to my mother.

In it, I had a tube inserted up my urethra, and my bladder repeatedly pumped full of water, so they could test how much my bladder could actually hold (my urinary systems were not developing as they should).

In my memory, I can remember the layout of the room. I can remember watching the nurse as she stood across the room, working the machine. I can remember laying on the padded bed, in the hospital gown, with my legs up and apart.

I can remember my mother sitting on my right side, reading to me from the Faraway Tree (one of my favorite books as a kid).

I remember the exact toy the nurse gave me afterward. I remember the Christmas tree in the lobby of the hospital, with the enormous glass globes.

I remember it was the Vancouver Children's Hospital. I remember the place where we stayed, the colour of the hallway, the juice my mother let me drink.

I told my mother that I remembered these things.

She told me that I screamed through the whole procedure.

I do not remember that at all.

I remember thinking that it didn't feel right, but I do not remember it hurting and I don't remember screaming.

All I remember is my mother reading the Faraway Tree to me.

I've always thought it was for the better than I don't remember the specifics, but now, I am not so sure.

.

Rosie.

Before&After