Big Girl

I got my blood drawn this morning. Usually the people that do my lab work are older than me, like my parents’ ages. They are very sensitive to my apprehensiveness and fear of needles. They comfort me when I start to cry. Sometimes they get me a cup of water, and I really like it. I really appreciate it.

Today, though, a 24-year-old guy named Jefferson was my personal phlebotomist. I’ve never cried in front a boy before (besides Ben), let alone one that is my almost my age. How embarrassing.

Yet, tears formed in the corners of my eyes as Jefferson arranged the tubes and pulled out the needle. As he wiped the inside of my elbow with the alcohol swab, I said with a single tear rolling down my cheek, “I used to passed out, but now I only cry.” I wiped the tear away. “Just so you know.”

Jefferson, very sweetly and gently said, “Oh, is that right? Don’t worry. I’ll take really good care of you, but you know… it may be time to hold that in and be a big girl.”

Gasp! Jefferson, doesn’t know how right he is. I. Will. Never. Maybe. Not. Cry. Again. I think that Jefferson was just what I needed to finally get over the last of my fear. No more tears from this big girl!