I am not needle phobic. Many years ago, I was. However, after being injected more times than a junkie, I have been forced to get used to ‘assault by needle’. This kind of proves that exposure therapy works, but certainly doesn’t mean that I’ll be attending any spider handling classes, anytime soon.
Despite not running for the hills, whenever I spot a long, sharp metal object, I can’t admit to needles being one of my favourite things. I don’t recall Julie Andrews singing about them in a positive light either.
Following my operation three weeks ago, I was ordered to receive daily injections. I was given the same treatment after January’s surgery, but was able to stop the course, upon getting discharged home. The thought of coming off the things, allowed me to tolerate every stab, prod and “short, sharp scratch”, inflicted upon my stomach – yes, my STOMACH – throughout my most recent stay.
The jabs stung a tad.
You can therefore imagine my horror, when, upon being sent home, I was ordered to continue the things for 14 days!
Apparently, this is all necessary to prevent blood clots. That did make me wonder… I received very similar surgery at the start of the year. Considering that I was not told to keep injecting myself, was I at risk of turning into a giant clot of blood? If not, is the latest clinician, who I have named Dr Stabby – just a meanie, who likes inflicting pain?
I’m willing to say yes; which is why I hope he somehow ends up standing barefoot on a rusty nail.
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So you stumbled across my blog. No doubt after searching for something bizarre on Google. Before you hit that 'Back Button', why not stay and have a read for a few minutes?
If you are after a website which gives advice on how to hack an iPhone X, download the latest Steven Seagal movie, or view nudy ladies, you've come to the wrong place and may now press 'Back'.
However, if you would like a lifestyle blog, written by a 30-something chap, living in Bath (England), feast your eyes on this.
You won't discover how to copy PlayStation 4 games. What you will find is a blog, covering life in the West Country, the highs and lows of supporting two unsuccessful football teams, while sharing a house with a wife and rabbit.
All written by a man, somewhere on the sanity-scale between normal and eccentric.
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