Post by Mike on Jan 18, 2005 17:47:21 GMT -5
Thought you might enjoy the story of the needle with an arm phobia! (12th Nov 03) by Pat McCarthy
Developed to help a pregnant woman with needle phobia:
(Pat is giving a workshop at the joint Hypnosis Conference in Glasgow in April 05 -see Hypnosis Conferences 2005,2006: in Announcements - News, Courses and Events)
The needle with an arm phobia!
"Once upon a time, there was a beautiful needle called Argento. She was shiny and metallic and she was sure that she was the most beautiful needle in the box. She lived in a plastic cover that was just the right size. And she had a sterile wrapper that kept her snug and warm and safe. She lived in a box in a cupboard and had lots of friends nearby to talk to. They would talk and talk all night. The other needles talked about their hopes and dreams and aspirations. They all seemed to want the same thing. They all wanted to be chosen to be the needle that would save someone's life. This was their heart's desire, their sole purpose in life. To save the life of a child or a beautiful maiden or best of all to save the life of a beautiful maiden who was with child. A beautiful maiden with a real inner child, since we all know that for everyone other than the pregnant, their inner child is just a metaphor (psych joke slipped in!) Argento could never understand the other needles. Every time the box was opened they would yell out, "Choose me, choose me". One would be chosen and the others would be so disappointed. "Perhaps next time ", they would say. Sometimes they jostled around in the box trying to reach the top and be chosen next. Argento was confused and frightened. She could not understand the lemming-like desire of the other needles to boldly go where no needle has gone before. You see, Argento had a problem. A problem she was very embarrassed about. She had a phobia. She had an arm phobia. She did not like the idea of being put up against an arm. You never know where the arm has been. You don't know if it is clean. Oh sure the talk of the box was that the arm is always cleaned before the needle. That a cotton towel rich in frankincense and myrrh is always paraded before the needle. Argento felt that was probably just a story, a fairy tale to make the needles think that they were important. Argento was not impressed. She was scared. But she was silent. She could not tell the others her fears. Was there an after-life for needles? What happens after use? Would she be abandoned and ignored? Would she ever discover the meaning of life for a needle? She knew that the other needles could not, would not understand her fears. They would say. "But we are bevelled needles, we are designed like metallic sculptures to easily glide through the tissues to deliver medicines or allow blood to be tested." This was easy for them to say. Every one of them was a virgin needle. They had no experience. They had no imagination, no fears.
The only hope would be if Argento could find a soulmate. An arm that was as scared of her as she was of the arm. But how could she ever meet such an arm. She had never heard of an arm with a needle phobia. That was ridiculous. A fairy tale, a story. It could not be true. There was no such thing!
Many weeks passed and many of Argento's friends were chosen "Whee, I'm off to save a life", they called.
There were fewer and fewer needles left in the box. The odds of being chosen grew greater and greater. Argento's fears grew with every selection.
One day it happened. You've guessed - Argento was chosen. She was more scared than you can imagine. She was taken to an arm, a woman's arm. The woman was scared. She was scared of needles. Argento wanted to shout out "Me too!" but no sound came from her. She was told that she had to give the woman a tuberculin test. She didn't know what that was, but it sounded important and apparently it was important for the arm. Argento decided that she would allow herself to become floppy. Floppy like a raggedy-anne doll. The floppiest kindest needle of all. She decided that she would deliver the test with a kiss, the tiniest sting of sweet sorrow and then bid adieu to the arm. Argento slid into the tissues and the arm became like a raggedy-anne doll. She breathed slowly in and slowly out as she delivered the test. Then she was gone. Quick as a flash. It was all over. The last thing she saw was the woman's face. A face of relief and deliverance. Argento seemed to instinctively know that she was the first needle for this woman. Other needles would come along and one day there would be a baby. A beautiful baby. Argento had not saved a life but she had in her own small way allowed a future life to be created. She was pleased. Well pleased."
Pat then writes:
I would then escort the woman to the lab, which is in the same building as my rooms with the story fresh in her mind. I would have her lying on a couch to prevent postural hypotension. I would ask her to close her eyes. Then I would lift her wrist and say, "Take a big breath in and then slowly out as the arm becomes like a floppy ragged-anne doll. Then slowly let the arm flop onto the couch. Remember the story of Argento. The story, like all good stories, has a happy ending".
Developed to help a pregnant woman with needle phobia:
(Pat is giving a workshop at the joint Hypnosis Conference in Glasgow in April 05 -see Hypnosis Conferences 2005,2006: in Announcements - News, Courses and Events)
The needle with an arm phobia!
"Once upon a time, there was a beautiful needle called Argento. She was shiny and metallic and she was sure that she was the most beautiful needle in the box. She lived in a plastic cover that was just the right size. And she had a sterile wrapper that kept her snug and warm and safe. She lived in a box in a cupboard and had lots of friends nearby to talk to. They would talk and talk all night. The other needles talked about their hopes and dreams and aspirations. They all seemed to want the same thing. They all wanted to be chosen to be the needle that would save someone's life. This was their heart's desire, their sole purpose in life. To save the life of a child or a beautiful maiden or best of all to save the life of a beautiful maiden who was with child. A beautiful maiden with a real inner child, since we all know that for everyone other than the pregnant, their inner child is just a metaphor (psych joke slipped in!) Argento could never understand the other needles. Every time the box was opened they would yell out, "Choose me, choose me". One would be chosen and the others would be so disappointed. "Perhaps next time ", they would say. Sometimes they jostled around in the box trying to reach the top and be chosen next. Argento was confused and frightened. She could not understand the lemming-like desire of the other needles to boldly go where no needle has gone before. You see, Argento had a problem. A problem she was very embarrassed about. She had a phobia. She had an arm phobia. She did not like the idea of being put up against an arm. You never know where the arm has been. You don't know if it is clean. Oh sure the talk of the box was that the arm is always cleaned before the needle. That a cotton towel rich in frankincense and myrrh is always paraded before the needle. Argento felt that was probably just a story, a fairy tale to make the needles think that they were important. Argento was not impressed. She was scared. But she was silent. She could not tell the others her fears. Was there an after-life for needles? What happens after use? Would she be abandoned and ignored? Would she ever discover the meaning of life for a needle? She knew that the other needles could not, would not understand her fears. They would say. "But we are bevelled needles, we are designed like metallic sculptures to easily glide through the tissues to deliver medicines or allow blood to be tested." This was easy for them to say. Every one of them was a virgin needle. They had no experience. They had no imagination, no fears.
The only hope would be if Argento could find a soulmate. An arm that was as scared of her as she was of the arm. But how could she ever meet such an arm. She had never heard of an arm with a needle phobia. That was ridiculous. A fairy tale, a story. It could not be true. There was no such thing!
Many weeks passed and many of Argento's friends were chosen "Whee, I'm off to save a life", they called.
There were fewer and fewer needles left in the box. The odds of being chosen grew greater and greater. Argento's fears grew with every selection.
One day it happened. You've guessed - Argento was chosen. She was more scared than you can imagine. She was taken to an arm, a woman's arm. The woman was scared. She was scared of needles. Argento wanted to shout out "Me too!" but no sound came from her. She was told that she had to give the woman a tuberculin test. She didn't know what that was, but it sounded important and apparently it was important for the arm. Argento decided that she would allow herself to become floppy. Floppy like a raggedy-anne doll. The floppiest kindest needle of all. She decided that she would deliver the test with a kiss, the tiniest sting of sweet sorrow and then bid adieu to the arm. Argento slid into the tissues and the arm became like a raggedy-anne doll. She breathed slowly in and slowly out as she delivered the test. Then she was gone. Quick as a flash. It was all over. The last thing she saw was the woman's face. A face of relief and deliverance. Argento seemed to instinctively know that she was the first needle for this woman. Other needles would come along and one day there would be a baby. A beautiful baby. Argento had not saved a life but she had in her own small way allowed a future life to be created. She was pleased. Well pleased."
Pat then writes:
I would then escort the woman to the lab, which is in the same building as my rooms with the story fresh in her mind. I would have her lying on a couch to prevent postural hypotension. I would ask her to close her eyes. Then I would lift her wrist and say, "Take a big breath in and then slowly out as the arm becomes like a floppy ragged-anne doll. Then slowly let the arm flop onto the couch. Remember the story of Argento. The story, like all good stories, has a happy ending".
