How I Overcame My Fear of Needles

This post was written from 18th May, 2021 and continued to be added to until 25th October, 2021.

Trigger warning: this post contains descriptions of needles, injections, blood and medical procedures.

Trypanophobia is an extreme fear of medical procedures involving injections or hypodermic needles.

First, let me start by explaining the phobia, how it makes me feel and what would typically happen if someone didn’t take me seriously when I told them. I’ve never been comfortable with needles, including injections and having blood taken. Typically, I will get extremely anxious, find it difficult to breathe, feel light-headed and (depending on the situation) faint. It’s partially psychological and partially medical.

I have a vasovagal response:
Vasovagal syncope (vay-zoh-VAY-gul SING-kuh-pee) occurs when you faint because your body overreacts to certain triggers, such as the sight of blood or extreme emotional distress. It may also be called neurocardiogenic syncope. The vasovagal syncope trigger causes your heart rate and blood pressure to drop suddenly.

I’ve been lucky enough, over the years, to have my Mum who was a nurse, give me my annual flu shot when we lived in Sydney. While seated, I would still feel faint if I thought about it too much, and often had to lie down immediately after, to avoid fainting.

When we were living in the US, I knew I’d have to deal with needles at some point, but avoided it as much as possible. In 2016, it was time to get the next flu shot, especially being in the Northern Hemisphere and travelling to China. So being extremely busy and rushed, my colleague and I walked over to Walgreens (like Priceline in Australia, but really grotty, because Downtown LA) during work hours and asked to get the flu shot. The woman lead us to a side room, which honestly felt like a trash area and my colleague got his shot first. I told the woman that I faint, but she said something like “you’ll be fine”. My colleague and I were sitting in chairs next to each other. She gave me the shot next and I immediately felt like I was going to faint (vision goes black, ringing in my ears, nausea) and told her that I didn’t feel well. She decided the best thing to do was to leave the room (I assume to get a manager) and so, when I fainted, my colleague caught me just as I slumped forward in the chair and nearly hit the ground head-first. Then, the woman came back and didn’t even put two and two together about what had happened. We told her I had fainted and then she left the room again to get me some candy/lollies.

The next time I had to deal with needles in America, it was time for a long-avoided blood test as part of a general medical. They seem to be really obsessed with annual blood tests in America, whereas I feel like in Australia they don’t do that unless you feel unwell. Anyway, the Drs office was pretty crummy inside, even though the Dr was one of the best in DTLA. This is very standard in America, we came to realise. So the nurse took me into a cupboard-sized room with paper-thin walls and asked me to sit in the chair. I told him I faint and he said “you’ll be fine” just like the Walgreens woman. I can’t remember if Alex was in the room with me or not. Naturally, predictably, I fainted - fell forward in the chair, and I’m not 100% sure who caught me. The nurse was acting like I hadn’t told him I would, and do you know how they woke me up?

Smelling salts.

Let’s let Wikipedia explain, because I’m a really thorough and professional researcher:
Smelling salts, also known as ammonia inhalants, spirit of hartshorn or sal volatile, are chemical compounds used as stimulants to restore consciousness after fainting.

I can see on Wikipedia, that smelling salts date back to Roman times and were also used in Victorian Britain and WW2. Good times, old chap.
Except, it wasn’t good times. It burned like hell and the whole experience felt entirely archaic. For reference, anyone in Australia who I’ve told about this is shocked and confused. It’s not the recommended protocol. I don’t even think they have them on hand.

I’m sure you can see that both of these experiences did nothing to help me move past my phobia, and they generally made me less comfortable for future experiences. Thanks, American health care. Thanks a lot. It goes to show how health care providers and the experiences you have can hinder you from moving forward or even harm you.

The third time I had to have a needle in America, I was fortunate enough to have access to a private group of clinics as part of my employee benefits in New York, called One Medical. These are the kinds of Drs offices I was used to in Australia, by default. Not boujee, just nice. Comfortable, spacious, clean, sound-proof. I went to get the flu shot on my lunch break by myself. It was a risk. The Dr was lovely. I told her I faint and even told her what happened last time. She said “No problem, this is why we have beds so you can lie down. Would you like me to direct a fan towards you? It might help". This. Just this. What I’d been needing at the previous Drs office. Some compassion and understanding. This was in 2019.

At the end of 2020, back in Australia, it was time to move onto something that would put me and my phobia to the ultimate test: fertility treatments.

Starting with baseline blood tests, I had to have the most blood I’ve ever had taken before. Alex was in another room having his done, and I prepared myself mentally as best I could. I got to lie down. I told the nurse everything. I asked to lie the other way and have it in my left arm (this was something I really wanted to do to begin with, as having it in my dominant arm was something I’d have to work up to later). I didn’t know quite how much blood would be taken, and honestly, it was better to be kept in the dark that first time. I think it was about 10-12 vials. I had my mask on, which worked similarly to a paper bag when you’re hyperventilating, but I wasn’t. I closed my eyes, put my right hand over my eyes (the lights in those rooms are quite bright) and I breathed in through the nose, out through the mouth - just like in pilates - as slowly as I could. It took quite a long time, because of how much they were taking, but they were well prepared for anyone to lie down and took me seriously. Once the blood was taken, I was able to lie there for a bit and recover. I slowly sat up and reached for the gummy bears I had cleverly stashed in my handbag. Alex came in to check on me. Then, I saw how much blood had been taken and (although feeling a little faint), I was OK. The nurse told me they won’t have to take this much blood again for a long time.

This was step 1 in a long process that is still continuing today, as I write this. One week recently, I had 5 blood tests in 8 days. It’s becoming the norm and those ones are much faster, as they only need a tiny amount for specific tests.

Now, let’s talk about the other kind of needles. The ones I actually didn’t hate as much previously, compared to getting blood taken. Injections.
When given the choice of trying 2 x IUIs (intrauterine insemination), I knew it involved one shot - the trigger injection. I knew this, because I didn’t seem to have any hormonal issues that would require medication before/after this step. Apart from the cost difference, and the fact that the whole process is less disruptive and invasive physically and mentally, we decided to try that first.

Of course, I could not inject myself. In all honesty, I couldn’t have Alex do it either. I needed to just shut my eyes until it was over and know that it was being done properly.
How? Duh - nurse Vicki to the rescue! The fact that we are living with my parents in Sydney right now could not be more perfect. None of this was intentionally planned, but we knew we didn’t want to move until we’d been through this process. For me, I needed to try the IUIs first because I knew it only required one needle. It didn’t hurt, I lay down as soon as it was over (you have to sit and pinch your stomach to inject, you can’t be lying down) and treated myself to a Lindt chocolate afterwards.

I knew the success rate of IUIs was lower than IVF, but the Dr didn’t suggest we move straight to IVF, based on all the tests they’d done.

To cut a long story short (another mega post is in the works about it all, which I’ll post whenever I’m ready) we have now moved onto IVF and I have since lost count of the total times I’ve had blood taken. I’ve had about 10+ shots at home throughout this whole process. I haven’t fainted once.

I’m definitely not at the stage where I could do the injections myself. I still struggle to breathe slowly and not wriggle my legs while it’s happening. I still need to immediately lie down with a heat pack, some lollies and Netflix on my iPad. But I did it.

I’m not sure if or when I’ll be able to have a blood test whilst sitting and I’ll probably always choose to lie down for the flu shot (and the Covid vaccine, whenever that happens). (Edit: I sat upright for both Pfizer shots, August 2021!) I still can’t watch the needle go in or watch people shooting up in TV/movies (even though I love my hospital shows). For now, all I can say is that I am so proud of myself for doing this. I honestly always told myself that I wouldn’t ever do IVF (because of the needles), but here we are. And it all happened so quickly.

It’s nearly the end of October 2021 and I’m 23 weeks pregnant.

This post isn’t about the IVF process, nor is it about telling anyone to overcome their fears. It’s just my story and way of reminding myself how proud I am to overcome this, and if you know me well, I hope you’re proud of me, too.