ouch

As I've been preparing myself for the journey ahead, I think there's only one part of this whole adventure I'm not totally convinced I can do.

Shots.

Meaning, needles. I hate needles. I can't tell you how much I hate them. The thought of the them. The sight of them. The feel of them intruding my body. The thought of them sitting in my vein, waiting for the slightest move from me to rip out, tearing my skin, sending me over an emotional cliff of crying out in agonizing pain. UG! (I am not dramatic. Nope, nope, nope.)

I detest having blood drawn. I can't watch. I wish the nurse wouldn't speak to me during my yearly check-up, as she non-challantly talks about how she's having a bad day, is really tired, or, "Oops, missed again. I'll have to try your other arm." PLEASE STOP! I have surprisingly given blood, of my own free will, twice. I felt compassionate and thought I should just suck it up and help those in need. The first time, I did fine. The second time, well, let's just say I awoke to eight faces hovered over mine, and someone asking, "Do you know where you are?" That ended my donating blood stint, no pun intended.

Yes, you get it, I hate them.

So, imagine my joy as I ordered my meds today, that I will need to prepare my body for this little one, knowing that it includes not one med involving a shot, but two. I can do this. I can do this. Right? Right!

You, little one, are so worth every shot in the history of man to me! I can do this, I WILL do this, with the Lord's help, and a wash cloth to bite down on.