Needles and The Butterfly

When I first started taking my medications, I only thought that I was taking pills. But it turns out that my parents had somehow been secretly giving me injections every other night while I slept. So one night I had passed out on my parents bed. All of a sudden I woke up to my parents holding me down with a needle in my leg! I freaked. Like seriously freaked. I was bawling and asking what was happening. So after that night, they told me that I had to get a shot every other day to help me with my disease. And I did. Sometimes it was a struggle- anyone would be reluctant to have a needle shove into them. So I have so much respect for diabetics. Shout out!

There was even an incident when I was probably seven when my parents were out for the night so my sister Mercedes had to give me my shot. And oh my, it was hard for both of us. First, I had become VERY particular about how the shot was given. It had to be in the exact spot I said. It had to be at this angle. Et cetera, et cetera. Second, Mercedes had never given me a shot before and she was probably 15. We sat in my grandmother's room for 15 minutes waiting for me to give the word to let her do it. Finally, when I gave the word, she began to give me the shot, I squealed a bit, and SHE TOOK THE SHOT OUT. OH MY GOD. I was already freaking out (as was she) and then I scared her so bad with my gasp that she took the shot out of my skin! I was sooooo mad. It is completely hilarious now, of course. I mean, it's a tiny shot. But then we had to start all over. These two nervous girls- 7 and 15. It was horrible, but I also trusted her from then on to give me my shots whenever my parents were gone.

I also had to start getting my blood drawn every three months when I was diagnosed. Now THAT was horrible. I would scream freaking bloody murder every time they tried to take my blood. My parents joke that they made me a room with a closed door because I screamed so loudly (there really was a room made in the blood draw area). So my parents would hold me down and I would become a banshee. But that was the problem. THEY HELD ME DOWN. Finally, when I was five (about a year later), my grandmother gave me her butterfly pin to wear during my butterfly blood draw (the blood draw needles look like butterflies because they have wings). Also, since I was five, I was able to more easily articulate what I wanted. The butterfly pin gave me the strength I needed to speak up. I told them that I just didn't want to be held down! Seriously. It was that simple. I just hated being held down. So the next time I just walked up and sat in the chair and held out my arm. They put the tourniquet on and drew my blood. No fuss. And that was when butterflies became my thing.

This is a very similar pin to the one I have in Florida. 

I may upload a picture of the real one later.