Involability of the Body

When the health assistant at the school was instructing us how to use an epipen on a student having a reaction, I knew it was a demo needle; as in there was no actual needle, just the shell. I knew she wasn't jabbing me with anything. I also knew that it was completely unintentional that she chose to use me as her example student because I specifically mentioned my lack of knowledge had a direct correlation with my fear of needles. It was proximity, not maliciousness. She was going through the same motions she had done every demonstration for every field trip meeting every year. There was nothing overtly aggressive about it. If anything it was lethargic, a meaningless motion repeated ad nauseum into which went little thought.

None of this, of course, was of any help when she held the tube of impending doom in her hand like a knife and jabbed it, as slowly as she did, which was actually very slowly, at my thigh. So when I say I jumped a foot in the air and nearly fell of the desk I was sitting upon, I say so with the full understanding that it was a purely instinctual reaction into which no person in that room could have until that moment given a thought to.

And yet, despite having been bitten rather recently, that was the scariest moment I've ever had in any school... ever.

Many might call that cowardice, but I have decided to view it as an adherence to the ancient notion of male inviolability of the body. According to her, many men, even the toughest men I might know, actually have a huge fear of needles. According to my model this makes complete sense, since only the toughest men would feel such a strong reaction to a violation of the body's integrity, and thus the tears of fear and the adrenaline that pumped through my system like a dam bursting after great floods are only further signs of my masculinity.

And now I know how to use an epipen!