Phobias and the Like

I guess I can say that my poisoned elbow has got me over my phobia of needles. I've had a drip in my forearm vein for 3 days, which is unheard of for me.
I remember, the first time I had a drip in my arm was for a CAT scan, some years ago. I very nearly freaked out, on that occasion. I remember feeling a glimpse of what completely loosing it felt like. I remember thinking, I'm a second from completely freaking out! I was sliding down that murky tunnel. The machine buzzed and I slid further in.
I couldn't let that happen. I wasn't going to be that person. You see, you have to keep completely still for a CAT scan and my logical brain (thank the universe for it!) thought, The reality is that eventually they would just put me back in here to start the scan again, if I did freak out. They would only make me do it again. And I didn't want to do that. The machine buzzed and I slid again.

So, I thought of one thing and I concentrated on it with every thing I had. I transported myself out of that dingy, basement laboratory out on to a beautiful country road with one of the most beautiful saloon cars ever made, the Jaguar Mk 2.
I looked at every detail of that beautiful car, from rear bumper bar to the gorgeous boot, to the exquisite door handles, to the spoke wheels (they do come without spoke wheels, but naturally I wouldn't be thinking about those cars) to the beautiful grill and sexy head lights, to the "Leaper," the bonnet ornament, in ever, minute detail. It took blue, maroon and green saloon cars before the scan was done. I went into stasis, to stop myself from completely falling a part.
The nurses voice came in and retrieved me from a very far away place.
Okay Christian, we're done.
Get this thing out of my arm, were my first words.
Yes, yes. Just a moment and...
GET this thing out of my arm NOW!!!! I bellowed, through gritted teeth. I'm sure the veins in my eyes were burning red. I'm sure my intensity engulfed her immediately. She whipped the needle out without another word needing to be said.
So you see, when the doctor, at St Vinnies, told the nurse to put the drip in my arm and to leave it there for three days, I felt the same anxiety rising up from the pit of my stomach, bile washing my teeth, but I told myself it would be fine. Just stop, be calm, don't worry. I told myself not to look away when it was being inserted and I didn't and it was fine. I watched the 2 centimetre needle disappear under my skin, into my vein, and the world didn't stop and I didn't die.
The point is, that I've had this drip in my arm for three days and I've hardly thought about it.
I guess you can get used to any thing, it's just a matter of going through it. I guess you can get over phobias. It's beginning to itch, but that is a different problem.
I've got over my phobia of flying, by telling myself that I'm just not scared any more. I told myself the fear was irrational, as flying is one of the safest ways to travel. I told myself that if I can push my car up to 150/160 on the country roads around Bolago, without a second thought, I have no right to be scared of flying. And it worked.
I now seem to be over my needle phobia... I'll make a junkie yet. Ha, ha. It suited me when me and my friends got into drugs, when half of them got into injecting speed, my needle phobia kept me standing with the half who wouldn't shoot up. We were told we were wimps. We were told we were children. We were told we didn't know what we were missing. As it turned out, the ones who did shoot up all ended up having a problem with it. They are all fine now, but that is a different story for another time.
I'll have to work on my fear of heights. But, I reckon that the height phobia has a greater physical element to it. It makes me disorientated and nauseous and dizzy. I'm not sure how to deal with the physical manifestations. I think the mental ones are easier to deal with.