There was once a time in my life when the only needles I was looking for were sewing needles I had dropped.No worries; if I ran around in bare feet I could always find them.
Then there was the hunt for the perfect knitting needles. Once upon a time all there were were the colored aluminim kind. I went thru a small phase of getting my hands on old wooden ones, a couple of whalebones, some made out of a milk protein that tasted like off milk, but mainly the Susan Bates metal ones. Now I have sets of bamboo, rosewood, ebony and Signiture needles. I faithfully swatch my yarn not just for gauge but to see which of all these needles make me happiest when paired with whatever yarn I’m using.
Now my needles are the medical kind. My life revolves around getting an IV, waiting for the IV, hoping my vein doesn’t blow. Then there is all of the blood sticking with the little vials…some days I honestly think there is no more blood IN me; they’ve taken it all. I have my favorite people to stick me–Lupe, Mary Ann, Jaimie, Ronnie, Bruce. I have favorite places to be stuck.
Once upon a time, I remember that not only were the blood tests so horrible I would faint (really. Turn up my toes and keel over), I hated getting any kind of shot. Back then, the needles were big assed fat ones that were sharpened and sterilized and used over and over. THEY HURT. The kids they use now barely count. I remember as a child lining up at a school for polio shots…hundreds of crying, screaming and snotting children held in place by our mother’s will.