Just call me freak attack...

Hearing the statement "something's wrong with you" or any variation on that is hard enough to hear from your doctor. For me, however, the worst possible thing that could come out of my doctor's mouth is "blood work." Those two little words can send me in to hysteria faster than just about anything. I cried and freaked the doctor out. I had to have a nurse in the room as well as the lab tech to take my blood. They were all really nice. The tech even used the pediatric needle for me. I still had a freak out session and they wouldn't let me pass out. And they still tell me my anxiety is nothing and I just need to breathe. Oh well. I made it home after waiting in the room for 20 minutes or so and taking a rest break on the drive home from shawnee. I'm ok now, just slightly woozy with a sore arm. My boss said I sounded as though I'd been through hell (and in my world, I had) and take the rest of the day off. So here I am trying to type while my arm throbs and trying to talk myself into knitting. I haven't had anything on the needles since Christmas morning. Maybe I could ball up my violet's pink ribbon yarn and get ready for some socks. Or maybe I'll just go lie down some more.