Power of the Mind
I faint at the sight of blood. At least I used to. I'm not sure anymore.
Blood phobia, like other phobias, is an extreme and irrational fear. In my case, I've been known to faint at the sight of blood (my own or someone else's).
I would fear blood tests, especially because many technicians had difficulty finding my veins and extracting the requisite amount of blood.
Last week I went for a long-postponed routine blood test. A tired-looking, middle-aged woman of foreign birth mumbled the room number I should enter. As I entered the room, I noticed the empty vials sitting on the counter with a metal chair beside it. The chair faced forward, so that when one was sitting in it one's arm would be contiguous to the counter. There was a padded bar that could be lowered in front. "Good," I thought. "At least I won't fall forward."
When the technician entered, I advised her that I faint at the sight of blood. She didn't seem phased by the announcement and wasn't concerned about my sitting upright in a chair. "Does she understand what I'm saying?" I wondered.
As I sat down, I prepared myself for the worst. The last time someone had taken blood at this facility I had indeed fainted and the technician was upset that I hadn't warned her. What would happen this time?
The woman on my left seemed business-like and without empathy. As she silently applied an elastic rubber tourniquet to my left arm, I looked at the book I had brought along, looked the other way, out the window... anywhere but at what she was doing. She touched the needle to my arm and I tried desperately to think about other things. Then she began asking me about the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday. "Do you celebrate the holiday?" she asked. "What are your plans?" Being naturally curious and wanting to be polite, I asked her in return if she celebrates Thanksgiving. She answered me briefly and then asked me some more questions.
When she was finished, I thanked the woman for talking to me during the procedure, which had passed without incident. She replied, "That's why I did it."
Language is no barrier between minds. This technician understood what I needed and "tricked" me into tolerating what I was unable to handle until this time. My first impression of her as lacking skill was based on factors that had nothing to do with her medical expertise; namely, her imperfect command of English, my previous negative experiences and my fear. My further condemnation of her as lacking empathy was based on her not responding to me in a fashion that I expected and deemed necessary. Her subsequent actions proved me wrong.
By distracting me, this kind and capable woman "tricked" me into concentrating on something other than the object of my phobia. As I answered her questions, the logical, verbal part of my mind became active, and the emotional, fearful side was silent. Although I knew what this woman was doing, the minimum effort required to answer her questions was sufficient to move me from a place of weakness to one of strength.
The past need not predict the future. With the proper guidance, one can change.
Blood phobia, like other phobias, is an extreme and irrational fear. In my case, I've been known to faint at the sight of blood (my own or someone else's).
I would fear blood tests, especially because many technicians had difficulty finding my veins and extracting the requisite amount of blood.
Last week I went for a long-postponed routine blood test. A tired-looking, middle-aged woman of foreign birth mumbled the room number I should enter. As I entered the room, I noticed the empty vials sitting on the counter with a metal chair beside it. The chair faced forward, so that when one was sitting in it one's arm would be contiguous to the counter. There was a padded bar that could be lowered in front. "Good," I thought. "At least I won't fall forward."
When the technician entered, I advised her that I faint at the sight of blood. She didn't seem phased by the announcement and wasn't concerned about my sitting upright in a chair. "Does she understand what I'm saying?" I wondered.
As I sat down, I prepared myself for the worst. The last time someone had taken blood at this facility I had indeed fainted and the technician was upset that I hadn't warned her. What would happen this time?
The woman on my left seemed business-like and without empathy. As she silently applied an elastic rubber tourniquet to my left arm, I looked at the book I had brought along, looked the other way, out the window... anywhere but at what she was doing. She touched the needle to my arm and I tried desperately to think about other things. Then she began asking me about the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday. "Do you celebrate the holiday?" she asked. "What are your plans?" Being naturally curious and wanting to be polite, I asked her in return if she celebrates Thanksgiving. She answered me briefly and then asked me some more questions.
When she was finished, I thanked the woman for talking to me during the procedure, which had passed without incident. She replied, "That's why I did it."
Language is no barrier between minds. This technician understood what I needed and "tricked" me into tolerating what I was unable to handle until this time. My first impression of her as lacking skill was based on factors that had nothing to do with her medical expertise; namely, her imperfect command of English, my previous negative experiences and my fear. My further condemnation of her as lacking empathy was based on her not responding to me in a fashion that I expected and deemed necessary. Her subsequent actions proved me wrong.
By distracting me, this kind and capable woman "tricked" me into concentrating on something other than the object of my phobia. As I answered her questions, the logical, verbal part of my mind became active, and the emotional, fearful side was silent. Although I knew what this woman was doing, the minimum effort required to answer her questions was sufficient to move me from a place of weakness to one of strength.
The past need not predict the future. With the proper guidance, one can change.
posted by Dr. Spiegel at
10:23 AM
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