It took me about a minute before I realised that there was blood gushing out of my head covering my face and hands, I couldn’t see. I thought I lost my eye. My mother was next to me saying things of which I heard nothing. After what seemed like hours, which was only a couple of minutes the blood was cleaned of my face by my mother and I could see that there was a red pool under me. My head was then wrapped in a cloth and I was on my way to the hospital.
“What will they do to me?” I asked my father, just managing to get the words out.
“I don’t know, but don’t worry,” he replied, trying to calm me down. At that moment I felt anything but calm.
I remember arriving at the hospital, being rushed into the emergency ward. At every step I was wondering what was going to happen to me. I was laid down on a bed with an ice pack on my head. From the corner of my eye, I saw a nurse coming in wheeling a trolley. On the trolley, there was an injection, a needle and some other things. However, my eyes were fixed at the needle and I just stared at it for a long time. I was given an injection, which didn’t hurt much compared to the pain in my head and afterwards my father put his hand on my shoulder, trying to console me. Looking at his grim expression. I knew something wasn’t right; they were going to do something to me. It clicked, when I saw the long, sharp, shiny needle on the trolley almost waiting to prick me. They were going to put stitches in me!! I tried to get up in protest but they wouldn’t let me. I didn’t have much energy in me and besides my head was hurting, so I didn’t feel as is if I could win.
I just lay there watching the needle on the table. To me it looked like the claw of a huge beast ready to pounce upon its prey. I could almost sense the needle’s hunger for blood. The injection that was given to me was an anaesthetic to put me to sleep so that I didn’t feel the pain while they were stitching me. It seemed almost an eternity before I started to feel drowsy. My eyelids wanted to close but I wouldn’t let them. I was too scared about what they were going to do to me. I still remember the shiny needle coming towards me, as I must have drifted to sleep. During my sleep I didn’t know what they were doing, hacking away at my head, pricking the needle in and out as if my head was a pincushion. I knew nothing.
I woke up with a start and slowly as the room came into focus, I saw that blinds were down and it was dark. Slowly as I became aware of my senses I remembered what had happened to me. My head felt as if it was on fire. I was going to touch the wound when,
“Don’t touch it!” exclaimed my father.
“What happened?” I asked him.
“They’ve put stitches in your head,” he explained.
“Why didn’t you stop them?” I said in an agonising tone.
“It was for your own good. Now you need to rest, you’ll be better in the morning.” With that said I was asleep.
I woke up in the morning and I was allowed to go home. I felt much better now that it was all over.
Now 5 years later when I reflect back onto the event I see how a minor thing such as running fast has affected me. Whenever I look at the scar in a mirror the whole incident flashes before my eyes. The image of the shiny needle coming towards me is still imprinted on my head. Every time I go for a booster injection and see the nurse bringing a trolley towards me, a fear rises within me and I picture myself being stabbed with a monstrous needle and bleeding to death. This needle phobia of mine has not only distressed me but has also prevented me from picking up any sort of needle, as I feel certain that it will pierce me.
Despite this needle phobia of mine I’m assured that I have a very strong head!
THE END
