So, I got your attention? Good!
I have an admission to make – I have a mental health issue.
I would hazard a guess that if we’re honest, we all have mental health issues. When asked about the subject matter some years ago I recall my pragmatic response – we are all nuts, it’s just a matter of where we are on the continuum at any given time.
Context for this brief reflection is important. I am 58-years old (but damn good looking!), totally bald, 13 stone 12lbs, broad, and 6’2” tall. To the outside world I may look as though I can handle myself, albeit looks can be deceptive.
Since I was 19 years of age, I have had a disabling fear of having blood taken from my arm via a needle. To be specific, from the antecubital fossa, more commonly referred to as the opposite bit to your elbow, where the upper and forearm are levered together.
You may ask am I a drama queen? I don’t think so. I have lived with this burden most of my adult life. If simply getting a grip was all that was required, rest assured, I would have done so long ago. I’d rather skip the feinting spells and the dramatic lying down whilst almost biting a finger off!
Photo by Nick Fewings on Unsplash
Having successfully reversed Type 2 diabetes thanks to my bollocks I am still monitored to ensure that I am in rude health, and for the past few years I have been looked after by Eadie. She is the only nurse in the whole of the Universe who can almost effortlessly take a blood sample from me, via my clenched fist whilst I just chew my right thumb and look in the opposite direction.
However, due to blasted COVID-19 I have been separated from my shielding Florence Nightingale. When another nurse recently laid the pillow out on the table in front of me, I nearly passed out!
I rather sheepishly admitted that needles scare the shit out of me. Although, to be more accurate, needles that come anywhere near the good old antecubital fossa. I’m OK with others, including my recent Astra Zeneca jab. I told her that I needed to get a proper hold of myself. I can vividly trace this fear back to my initial police training when, seated at the head of the class, I witnessed a video of a drug addict stabbing their arm, the needle breaking and blood spurting everywhere!
She explained that phobias are as real as the imagination allows them to be and they are the most common type of anxiety disorder. More importantly, she offered help in the form of Cognitive Behavioural Therapy, more commonly referred to as CBT.
I have just started my online programme, supported by scheduled human contact, and already I feel better equipped to finally slay this dragon. The paradigm of the feared situation which I perceive as a threat causing the cycle of avoidance was the most obvious point of initial reference.
I am beginning to better understand my emotional state, and the trigger point that leads me to overestimate the level of risk, and I just may allow Eadie, pardon the pun, to have a stab (or ‘slight scratch’ as she elegantly puts it) when we next meet.
Sometimes even the smallest things can cause the heebie-jeebies to the biggest of us. It may have taken me a few years to figure this out but when you feel anxious about anything there is no shame in admitting that you may need help.
Toodle-pip!
UPDATE
Mission accomplished!
Thank you Shani!
© Ian Kirke 2021
Title photo by Nguyễn Hiệp on Unsplash