Messed My Head Up Again.

So I get two phone calls.

The first one was from Mama. Apparently she, Mike, and Steve had all been talking about me today. When I asked why, I was horrified to hear that there's more needles than I thought.

Lots more.

I knew I was due in for one at pre-op and one at surgery... plus one after one month, three, six, nine, and eighteen months. That alone is seven, spread out across a year and a half. That alone is enough to send me, a complete needlephobe, close to the edge.

Well. I was told you get four before surgery (a blood draw, a numbing agent, the IV, and one in the leg for some reason that I don't remember). Then, once you're awake, they start sticking you once every six hours. And with it being a two or three day stay, we're talking eight to twelve more sticks. That brings you to a total ranging from twelve to sixteen... in three days.

I told Mama I'd be fine if they'd let me be asleep, but obviously that's not allowed. So now I'm pissed off because I hate learning things like this. Every single person I talked to said no more than three. Now I'm learning it's going to be double digits.

Worse still, Mama sounds like she thinks I'm going to back out. I get the feeling everybody's waiting on me to chicken out and back out like the coward I am. That bothers me, too. I don't know what to do, and the very concept of all those sticks has set me close to a panic episode.

The second call was from Shelby. She was fine, but I heard her voice slurring. I knew she was fine, but hearing her voice all sluggish and drowsy made my eyes tear up. (And thinking about it now has my eyes watered.) The thought of them poking and prodding and sticking her drives me insane. I know she's not afraid of needles like me, but I hate thinking about any of my loved ones being stuck and prodded. It took everything for me not to cry. I just wanted to get in my car and race up there and be with her.

She told me that Mike was nearly in tears at the sight of his youngest child being in so much pain. (She tells me on the one to ten scale, the pain level was a solid eight.) That made me smile and want to cry at the same time, as Mike is such a stoic creature that it's heartwarming to see him care so much about her. I mean, I know he loves us... just the concept warms my heart a little.

And we still haven't heard if my older sister has come out of recovery, which has my paranoia wondering what's going on. I guess I'll just keep my phone at full volume tonight.

So right as I was getting my head on straight, and right as I was starting to relax a little, I get all this put back on me. What do I do? I'm afraid that I can't face my fear on such an extreme level like this. I know I need to do it, because the bracelet was ordered and the surgery is scheduled. I know it would be very good for me. But for a needlephobe, telling them they have to endure twelve needles in three days is like telling somebody you're going to bury them alive for a couple of days.

Although for me, it feels like being locked in a coffin-like box that gets flooded with water.

I've got two weeks to gather my strength. Shelby was fortunate that she had her best friend to go with her. I don't have that luxury... but at the same time, maybe I don't want that luxury. If I know myself the way I do, I figure I'll have a bunch of doctors holding me down while I cry and yell and make noise... not a fun sight at all.

I guess I ought to try and sleep...