The day I stabbed Orwell

The other day Tricky's EpiPen, that we were given at the hospital after his first anaphylaxis reaction, expired.

This is a brilliant thing for two reasons:

1 - If it expires it obviously means we didn't have to use it - HOORAY!

2 - I get to stab me an orange! BOOYAH!

I'm not scared of needles, I even had weekly injections for six months to desensitize myself to some allergens, but giving one to someone else is a little bit different to receiving them. There is nothing quite like stabbing fruit to get some pent up aggression out of the system practice, ya know? I decided to give him a name and a backstory because, well, it's me and I do stupid things like project feelings on to food.

I christened him Orwell the Orange. Orwell is allergic to Kiwi fruit and had been in the fruit bowl right next to one. If he'd had lips and eyes, they would have been swelling. I could have drawn them on but that would have been ridiculous, and only highly disturbed people would do that.

It became immediately obvious that the swelling was affecting Orwell's airway too, so I sprang in to action and grabbed the EpiPen, jammed it in his thigh and held it for the required 10 seconds.

That is one big bloody needle

I can only assume Orwell was so busy trying to not die that he didn't feel the giant needle going in, because he didn't even make a peep. Or a squelch. Or whatever noise it is that oranges make. Orwell is one tough cookie orange.

We can now all rest assured, safe in the knowledge that little Orwell is OK and that I'm confident to use a real EpiPen not just our training one.

Oh look, I'm disturbed after all

Are you needle phobic? Do you make oranges in to anthropomorphic test subjects?