Iatrophobia is the fear of going to the doctor and I have it. I've had it since I was a little girl going to my pediatrician, Dr. Zarbin (may he rest in peace). He was an old Italian man that had a very thick accent and it was hard for me and my little girl ears to understand him. I think that was half of the problem right there. I just looked at him and listened as best I could, but I was always certain I heard the word 'needle' come out of his mouth at least fifteen times a visit. I was petrified of needles, but then again, what little kid isn't? The other 37 words were sure to be the description of the fatal disease that I had somehow contracted. So, I would always get myself worked up about going to see him. I believe they thought I was going to have to go on blood pressure medication at the age of 8, because every time the nurse took my blood pressure it would be through the roof. Of course everyone realized if they told me there were to be no needles that day and then took my BP, it would be SIGNIFICANTLY lower. Imagine that!

So anyway, I'm now 32 and things are a little better. Needles don't scare me like they used to, and on occasion I can even have blood taken without having a heart attack. If If I get sick and need to go to the doctor to get meds, it's fine, when I sprained my ankle it was no big deal. HOWEVER if stitches might possibly be involved, I'm not a happy camper. And I know this is a terrible thing to admit, but I don't do checkups. It brings back the whole, "I'm sorry to tell you you're dying" thing. Just let me die; I don't want to know about it. I try to act like such a badass and say that I'm over my fear, but it's all a sham. I'm no better than that scared little 8 year old trying to decipher Italian accented English. It's all Greek to me ;-)

And ya wanna hear something REALLY funny? I even get myself worked up having to go the doctor's office for someone else. Does that make sense? HELL NO!! But I do.

Perfect example: Matt takes Advair for his asthma. He's working about 40 minutes away from home today, and he needed me to run to the office to pick up a sample from Doc until he can get his regular full amount.

So here I am driving to the office. It's a chilly, yet sunny day. There's a Rick Springfield (LOVE HIM!) song playing on the radio. My heart is pounding, my stomach is rumbling, and my palms are sweating as I feel the panic attack begin. If I'm not careful, they'll be treating me when I get there.

So what's my major malfunction? Am I nervous about going in and asking about drugs for someone else? Subconsciously do I think they think I'm lying to them about who and what they're for (and we're not talking about anything that anyone would find stealable, at least I don't think)? Or do I think they'll take one look at me and just know I'm dying? Will they want to jab a needle in me for the hell of it?

Then again, maybe it's all subconscious and psychosomatic, or some other big, medical word I can think of?

All I know is that my name is Bianca, I'm 32, and I am an iatrophobe.