Five needles in two weeks. Talk about rapid desensitization!
For as long as Matt has been in love with B.F. Skinner, he has emphatically believed that putting me on a behavioral plan involving rapid desensitization would be the best way to cure my medical-induced panic attacks. I think he might be onto something, but after today’s visit to the midwife I’d like to give credit where credit is due: BRANDY.
I have learned to ask for her by name. “Hello, I’m here to have my blood drawn and I’d like Brandy to do it in room six.” She is an angel from another world, and perhaps another life. She is faster than a speeding bullet and more thorough than a hitman covering his tracks. Put me in a room alone with Brandy, and I JUST MIGHT BE ABLE TO GIVE BLOOD!
If you’re not picking up what I’m laying down, today’s appointment went swimmingly. So swimmingly that when she told me I might need to come back in next week for another round, I nearly high-fived her. Anything for you, Brandy. Anything.
Matt might be pleased with the success of his behavioral plan, but I am starting to think he’s created a monster. I just might become so flippant with needles that in two weeks he will find me again, on the bathroom floor… this time strung out on heroine.
