I'm Getting the Vaccine (My Thoughts on Needles)

This Wednesday morning, I'll be getting vaccinated against COVID-19. I'm very excited, although I'm pretty sure my asthma should have qualified me to get it over a month ago. Better late than never!

I think it's safe to say that I've had more shots in my life than the average person. For four years, I got four allergy shots (cats, dogs, mold, & tree pollen) at least once a month and at most twice a week. Pre-allergy shots, I was actually pretty uncomfortable with needles. I used to freak out at the thought of getting a shot; I insisted on getting the flu shot in the form of nose drops up until I was about fourteen years old.

I'm sure that the stomach-drop the minute you hear your doctor say you need a shot is not a feeling unique to myself, but I'm proud to say I've pretty much conquered that fear. Now I get shots like an old pro. As long as they're in my right arm.

I refuse to get needles in my left arm. It's my dominant hand, my prized possession. If my left arm is to be weakened, what am I left with? I got all four of my allergy shots in the right arm up until the dosage was too high for them to let me get them in the same arm. In spring of 2019 when I got my MMR booster shot on campus during the Temple University mumps outbreak, the person giving me the shot rudely refused to give it to me in my right arm. I feel as though stabbing someone in the wrong arm without consent to have it in that arm shouldn't be allowed. I'm still upset about that experience- it's definitely in my top 3 worst needle moments.

Ironically, all three of my worst experiences with needles occurred after I started taking allergy shots. My number two, being very early on in my allergy shot journey, makes the most sense.

The first three months of 2016 wrecked me, emotionally and physically. Sophomore year of high school tends to do that to a person, I suppose. There I was, barely fifteen years old, moody and frustrated and unable to breathe through my nose. And then allergy shots were added to the mix. I was excited to relieve the symptoms that had been plaguing me for years (thanks to the cats I lived with), but I definitely wasn't sold on the needle bit. To make things worse, the allergist legally requires you to purchase an EpiPen, just in case you have a bad reaction to your shots.

If you knew a peanut allergy kid growing up, you know how scary an EpiPen is. And if the thought of someone stabbing themself (or being stabbed) in the leg doesn't scare you, you may have a very twisted mind.

The second or third time I got my allergy shots, my mom decided to play with the "practice" EpiPen in the pack while the allergist was stabbing me. I knew it was the practice one, obviously, and there was no needle, but something about that really freaked me out (maybe the fact that 1. EpiPens are scary and 2. I was being actively stabbed as she did that? just a thought hahaha). Once I was done getting all four needles in my arm, we walked out of the room and I immediately began to feel woozy. At this point, I'd only ever fainted one time in my life, but the feeling is unmistakable. My vision got blurry, I started to lose my sense of balance, and I began clinging to my mother for dear life. The allergist told me this is called a "vasovagal" reaction, which basically means I freaked out and almost fainted. Pretty cool. Then they made me lie down for half an hour.

My number one worst needle experience of all time also involves fainting, but this time I wasn't all wishy-washy about it. I was finally old enough to give blood when the New York Blood Center came to my high school on St. Patrick's Day of 2017, and I was so excited. Sitting out of class? Getting free snacks? Walking into tenth period yoga late with that funky blue arm band and not having to participate because you can't do downward facing dog on a weak arm? Sign me up!

And I was so sure that giving blood would be no big deal, because I'd been getting stabbed in the arm every week for a year, and needles didn't scare me anymore. What I failed to consider, never having had blood drawn before, was that the needle they use to take blood is absolutely massive. On top of that, they definitely found the smallest vein possible to stick that huge needle into, and it HURT. I assumed that the pain would go away once the needle was fully inside my arm, but that was not the case. It was almost as though it hurt more every second the needle stayed inside me. I cried and called my mom, so I could hear her voice talking and maybe forget the pain. It kind of worked.

A couple times during the maybe 20 minutes that needle was inside me (this is a very loose estimate; I had very little concept of time during this experience), the phlebotomist asked me if I wanted to stop. But my bag wasn't full, and I'm no quitter. So I cried and listened to my mom talk for however long it all lasted, and then they finally took out the needle.

When the needle was taken out, my arm was weak, so I called my mom on FaceTime in order to drink cranberry juice with my good arm. Mid-conversation with my mother, I felt so ill that I had to hang up. I was sitting up, drinking cranberry juice and feeling icky. Then, suddenly, I was lying down, feeling both icky and disoriented, and cranberry juice was being wiped up on the floor beneath me.

I had passed out in the back lobby of my high school, in front of at least 10 people I knew. They did me the courtesy of watching me faint very closely and then reporting their observations to me once I was allowed to sluggishly walk over to the snack table. Apparently, there were two things it looked like was happening. 

1. "It looked like you were having a seizure!"

2. "It looked like you were trying to wake up multiple times consecutively as you fell asleep."

If I'm honest, the whole thing is worth it for that second line.

I have yet to give blood again, but I'd like to in the future. I'm very curious to see whether it was a one-time thing or if I just can't give blood without passing out. The New York Blood Center always wants my blood, too. They call me on the phone all the time, but I'm never in town. I'll get back there one day.

But for now, the only needle I'll be getting poked with is the needle that gives me the COVID vaccine! And for that, I am very grateful.