I am the one whom classmates from school remember as the girl who fainted at the sight of blood. In the biotechnology lab, there was some excitement that day, for we were going to determine our own blood group. I pretended to be alright, but when the needle pricked my finger and a drop of blood fell on to the slide, I saw black spots in front of eyes and felt light, so light.
So this is me, the one who feels nauseous and giddy on getting a whiff of that hospital smell, the one who thrashes about when a nurse searches for a vein in the forearm, the one who still prefers a tetanus shot in a place she cannot see unless she has eyes in the back of her head, the one who shivers uncontrollably as the dentist switches on that blinding light, the one who almost runs to the door as the attender brings any sharp looking object near her, the one whom the family doctor refers to as “the girl whose pressure went so low during a blood test”.
I routinely have these things said to me: You are 13! (A few years later) You are in college! (Some more years pass by) You are working! How can you still be scared? Oh, believe me, I do not choose to be. I wonder why nobody asks other twenty five year olds to quickly outgrow their fear of heights.
And this is why I love my homeopathy doctor. The most sinister looking instrument in her possession is a stethoscope. Her pills taste like sugar. Her clinic smells of a mild incense.