Those who know me well will be aware of my fear of needles. It's not a major fear, like spiders or heights, but it's there, most certainly. So imagine my surprise today, when I took Jo to the doctors to get him checked out (had this chesty cough for over a month now, turns out it's not an infection but it all boils down to his ears -cold weather etc. Poor poppet.) and I thought, while I was there, it would be a good plan to book my physio and flu jab. The receptionist told me to ring on Friday to speak to the doctor on call to arrange physio and would I like to take a seat, the nurse will do the jab now. So, desperately, I tried to assure her that it wasn't urgent and I would call to arrange an appointment in the not so near future. She glared at me, told me it was overdue by a month anyway and that the nurse would be with me shortly. And so she was.
Jo sat opposite me and I grinned like a cheshire cat as if everything was all rosy. I grabbed his hand and clenched very tightly, totally forgetting it was my two year old child not my husband.
And then it was over. It stung though. But I was a brave soldier. Yay me.
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