I cried.

I thought that I'd just be a nervous wreck, as I usually am in the same situation, and that it would take the doctor about 10 minutes to calm me down so that she could stick me with the needle.

During my last physical, my doctor said it's a good idea for me to have some blood tests taken. I hadn't had my blood drawn with a needle in years. With me, it's always an ordeal.

I have a phobia of needles. Apparently, many people do, though I don't know anyone personally who has it worse than I do.

I always seem to forget that the needle doesn't hurt much at all. It's probably not as much the anticipation of pain as it is the horror of the needle itself with which I have issues. The thought of being impaled by such a small yet potentially malicious object is so frightening that even as a 30-year-old I'm reduced to a whimpering mass of jitters.

Maybe I had a bad experience with needles in the past that I can't recall. I'm unable to watch other people being poked with needles.

I didn't expect the tears to come today. They were already streaming down my face before I could try to hold them back. I believe they were tears of frustration with myself for being such a big wimp. After that, the quick and painless prick.

It was all over in about 15 seconds.