When I first told my mom that I was joining the Army, she gave me that look of complete shock. Later, in a conversation she mentioned my hate of needles. Knowing the significant number of shots, etc that are involved with the military, that were what let her know this was something I really wanted to do.
It didn't take long for that hate of needles to come into play. I didn't even make it through MEPS. When we first arrived the morning of our in processing, they briefed us on a number of rules - one of which was not falling asleep during the lengthy day. One of the first stops was to have blood drawn. I made it through getting my blood drawn (barely), then stopped at the water fountain on the way to my next station. When I went to pick up my paperwork from the chair, I realized that I had a steady stream of blood running down my arm.
As I walked back to the area for the blood draw, I was leaving a nice trail behind me. They asked me what I needed and I told them more bandages. I then showed them my arm. I was fine standing there until I saw the other individuals getting their blood drawn. They couldn't catch me before I hit the floor. This wasn't exactly my ideal start to this day.
When I came to, I heard laughing. Once I was fully awake, I realized they were laughing at me. My first thought was 'great, I'm that person'. Then someone filled me in. Before I had completely come to, I had asked if I was going to be kicked out. When asked why, I told them because I had fallen asleep. Shortly after that is when I had fully woken up. Given it was a Friday morning and they all had a busy week, they were thankful for a lighter moment.
To be continued (this is one of many stories based on my issues with needles)...
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