Saturday, June 28, 2003

My wife is still trying to get used to the test strips and the finger poking. I feel tremendously bad for her because I myself cringe everytime blood is drawn, or when I have to get poked by nurse or otherwise. I'm a certified wimp, which is acceptable to my ego.

Ever since I got my foot punctured by a nail, it's not a big secret that I will actually go into a shock-like state whereby I sweat up a storm, am cold to the touch, and have no absolute muscle control. I would imagine that when our son has his shots I will be wincing like a monkey about to get pinched in the nads.

All right, I suppose an alternative metaphor could have sufficed.

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