Like most every kid, I hated hated hated getting shots, blood drawn...anything with a needle and you were going to get a fight from me. If you're the same way, this two-second trick will help the next time you're at OMC or Mayo getting a stick. 

The worst time I remember was third grade. I knew a blood draw was coming, and I was not happy about it. To make me more willing, my mom promised me a donut if I was good, but I knew about the finger prick, the squeezing, the damaged finger tip. Hated it. Turned out it was much worse than that. They were actually going to stick a needle in my arm to pull the blood out. Barbarians!

I'd built it up in my head so much, I was near freak-out stage when the nurse came out. "Are you James Rabe?" she asked (this was pre-radio, so I forgive her not knowing who I was) and I...lied, "Nope, I'm not James Rabe." My mom was in the bathroom, so I thought it would work.

James Rabe in happier, tho hairier, times. CREDIT: Estate of WT Rabe

She gave me a look that says,"Oh fer cry-eye, not this. Please, not this." When my mom came back, there was a scene to end all scenes. Screaming, crying, shouting, I hate you's and you don't love me's and, then I did it. I tore outta my moms arms, tearing my sleeves off my winter coat. I was so free, and then, soooo sorry. 

There wasn't a sorrier kid in town than me, and by the sound of my mom's voice, I knew there was no point in continuing. I was in big trouble. Also, I could kiss that donut goodbye.

I trudged to the torture chamber, slumped into the chair, put my arm out, and braced for the pain. She stuck the needle in and...it didn't hurt. Not even a little bit. I remember this part very clearly. She sticks the needle in, and I'm surprised there's almost no pain. But...there had to be pain. I mean, there had to be pain. I ruined a winter coat and lost a donut,for that? It hurt less than a mosquito bite.

So I faked it. Fairly well, I thought. "It was awwwwwwwful!" I screamed and sniffed and snorfled and kept up the act 'til I got to school. "Hey James, what happened to your coat?" I don't wanna talk about it.

Later I found out my mom was not fooled. She said there was easily 20 seconds between the needle stick and the fake screaming. Plus, she said, "we could tell your heart wasn't in it.."

Anyway...this video shows you a two second trick to keep the pain at a minimum. If I'd known it before the Big Scene, I'd have the sweet memory of that jelly filled donut, and not the stinging memory of shame.