I am a complete coward when it comes to needles. There, I said it. There’s no need to hide the obvious . . . when I was a little boy, my frequent visits to the doctor’s office and hospital were often accompanied by those painful, awful pricks to the arms and butt. “It’ll only feel like a mosquito bite,” said the nurse as she sidled up to me on a rolling stool, prepared to administer the dreaded instrument to my hind quarters. She lied. They all did. More often than not, big black bruises were the result of my being violated with that horrible stainless steel “thingee,”... (Read More ...)