It’s in a big grey room.
My mother was holding me.
She handed me to some people dressed in white.
They carried me across the room and put me down on a high long table that was soft with thin legs.
She seemed to be far in the distance.
They tried to grab my wrists and ankles.
I struggled and kicked with my arms and legs to evade them, thinking it was worthwhile, but they were very determined.
Their persistence was strange to me.
They got hold of my ankles first, but were not satisfied with this and kept trying to get my wrists until they’d pinned me down.
At some point I started to cry, just out of irritation really.
It wasn’t frightening, just annoying.
Turns out I was 6 months old, and having blood taken in a hospital. I always assumed as a young child that the veins in my wrists had been put there by these people.
I knew they had done something, although I don’t remember any pain.
Submitted anonymously.