Can I Come Back Tomorrow?

The other day I had to get a blood test. (Don't worry, I am not dying...and before you jump to conclusions, I am not pregnant. If you really must know, it was just a test to see if I'm immune to chicken pox).

An 11 year old boy also had to get some blood tests done (I don't think he's pregnant, either). When they called his name, they asked him if he would rather do the urine sample first or the blood tests. He opted to pee in a cup.

Then it was time to get his blood tests done. And it soon became very apparent to everyone in the waiting room that he was extremely scared of needles. He cried. He begged. He bargained. Then we all heard him say, "Can I come back tomorrow?" Those of us in the waiting room knew what he hadn't learned yet: tomorrow wouldn't make it any easier.

They called my name, they took my blood, and I left before his saga was over. I don't know if he finally faced the needle or if he convinced his mom to bring him back tomorrow. I hope, for his sake, that he just got it over with.

As much as we all know he'd be better off to face his fears rather than wait another day, I think most of us have moments in life when we respond in similar ways.

Like today, for example, when Jon told me he was going to have a sample of the dry wall tested to see if it contains asbestos. I might have pulled the neck of my shirt up over my head and proclaimed, "NOOOOOO." It was basically the emotional equivalent of sticking my fingers in my ears and yelling "I can't hear you!"

Please, not one more thing to worry about!

Unlike the boy who wanted to come back tomorrow, though, I would rather come back in a few weeks. I would be happy to go on vacation and come back when the floors are out of our house and the air has been tested and the bathroom is finished. (If any of you would like to send me on said vacation, I am not picky about a location).

But, as with most things in life, this is a battle that can only be won by trudging through it. I trust that things will look better on the other side. And I have to keep holding onto that hope, rather than worrying about what else might happen. In a month or so (maybe less, if I can dare to dream), these headaches will be gone. So, here's to July 23rd (a month from today).