That needles scared me a lot (and scare me even now), thankfully I had the encouraging words of my dad. Once it happened though, I was 4 and a half, that I tore to pieces the nylons of the nurse who tried to take blood sample from me
. I think it had happened because it was out of the accustomed environment, on the corridor, so I wasn't expecting it. Anyway, I was allowed to wear my own pyjamas, have my favourite dog plushy and books with me. I ate not too much, my parents brought some food in, for example "floating islands", whipped egg white on vanilla milk, which I liked very much. My parents were extra kind with me, and the nurses and doctors were kind too. At least on one occasion I had the support of my aunt who worked there at the time as a nurse.
Somehow I naturally trusted doctors and nurses, so I wasn't really afraid of them. On every occasion I stayed at the same accustomed hospital, so it could have been a help to me. As I grew older my attitude towards staying in hospital has "normalized", now I don't like it any more than others do.
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Another non-English speaking - DX'd at age 38
"Aut viam inveniam aut faciam." (Hannibal) - Latin for "I'll either find a way or make one."