It Didn't Even Hurt, Did It?

I used to dread my birthday as a kid.  Of course it wasn't the getting presents part, or the licking of icing off of freshly-blown out candles, or even the off-key renditions of "Happy Birthday" at school (Although it would be nowadays with current versions of "Cha Cha Cha, Hi-ya, Konichiwa" at the end.  Where did they pick that up anyway?).  You see, in my family, birthdays coincided with an awful event:  the yearly physical at Dr. Appleby's office.

In theory, I liked my doctor and always said so when asked.  Why wouldn't I?  He was a tall, distinguished-looking man with long grayish sideburns and horned-rimmed glasses who would always come into the room with an extended hand waiting to be shaken.  He was one of the only adults apart from my parents who asked, "How are you?" and really meant it.  But I'd sit there speechless on the cushioned table adorned by a rolled out piece of butcher paper that would crinkle with my every move.  The only thing on my mind was the finger prick that was about to happen.

I had remembered it from years before, that quick jabbing needle he'd poke into my finger resulting in a ruby red pearl of blood.  And I knew it was about to happen again.  As Dr. Appleby would rub alcohol on my finger, distracting me by asking about school, I'd closed my eyes waiting for the worst.  

"You can open your eyes now," he'd say.  Wait a minute.  That was it?  It's over?  All that worry for that?  "It didn't even hurt, did it?" he'd say while putting a Band-Aid on my finger.  "Nope," I'd reply smiling, realizing that a great weight had just been lifted off my shoulders.  Until the following year at least.

What I failed to realize for many years is that the pain only existed before Dr. Appleby pricked my finger.  I had made it such a big deal about it, not only was it far greater than the actual event, but it got in the way of me enjoying what was really important. 

It's the same with research.  For years, I've been thinking about researching and writing nonfiction, but I've been letting my apprehension of going out, asking questions, and finding answers lead me to nothing but inaction.  Well, I'm not going to let it get in the way any more, and I can now safely say after my second day in Bangkrua, the weavers' village, that it didn't even hurt. 




Image from:  http://school.discoveryeducation.com/clipart/clip/bandages.html