She hands me a cup. That means only one thing; I have to pee in it. (Read this one first)

(First person story)
Needles freak me out. I have four tattoos and two piercings besides my ears, but those kinds of needles because they don't look like what the really are. Medical needles are what freak me out and set me into anxiety mode.I recently had to get a series of epidural back injections to cure a herniated disk and a pinched nerve. I knew what was going to happen; a long needle was going to be shoved into the epidural space of my lumbar spine and a steroid would be injection. The doctors office gave me two options for the procedure: sedation or no sedation. Which did I choose? Hands down, I picked the sedation.
I walked into the surgery center dressed in my favorite pair of black yoga pants and my Zac Brown Band concert tee shirt. I was fine just waiting to be checked in. I got my wrist bands and sat down in the waiting room, where my foot began to tap up and down. The nurse opens the door, "Chelsee?". She stands there and waits as I make the slow walk to the door. The nurse brings me into this small room where she takes my vital signs and asks me a bunch of questions about my medical history. "Do you have kidney problems?" "No" "Do you have a history of heart conditions?" "No" "Do you bla bla bla bla" for a good 20 minutes.
When the questioning ended, she handed me a cup. That means only one thing; I have to pee in it. Fantastic.
By this time my hear is already pounding so hard I can feel it hitting the back of my sternum. I do what needs to be done with the cup and pass it off to the nurse. I begin another round of the waiting game; or so I thought.
A fun "motherly" looking nurse walks up to me with a saline bag, an alcohol swab and an IV starter kit. Oh boy! As she puts the rubber thing around my arm to limit circulation, I decided it might be the time to tell her about my anxiety.
"Oh don't worry about a thing! I do these all the time!" she tells me as she is smacking my arm feeling for my veins. My IV got started along with my tears, but I sucked them up. It wasn't until I had to getup and walk myself into the procedure room that I became hysterical. I cried so hard that I had difficulty breathing. At that point they didn't know what else to do but pump me full of drugs that knocked me out. I cant remember anything until I was home. All I know is that some cran-rasberry juice mixed with a little bit of apple was sounding really good and I made sure to tell my dad over and over again that he needed to go get some.