This scientist is deathly afraid of needles. How she overcame it and got vaccinated
In late May, Samantha Yammine, a Toronto neuroscientist who advocates for vaccines, shared what had become, for her, a source of shame and embarrassment. For much of her life, Yammine had lived with a severe anxiety around needles — a phobia that led her to avoid vaccination for years.
As a scientist, Yammine understood the toll of the pandemic and knew mass immunization was the way out. But she was crushed by fear and dread. How could she be a vaccine advocate if she didn’t get vaccinated against COVID-19?
“I knew I had to get it, but I honestly didn’t think I’d be able to,” she said.
Yammine, 31, known as Science Sam on social media, is not frightened of needles in the way some people become mildly distressed about spiders or thunderstorms. Her fear is rooted in childhood trauma and it activates the same fightor-flight response that another person might have if they encountered a bear or a home intruder.
But when she shared her story on Twitter, it came with a positive development. After months of planning, therapy and an appointment at an accessibility clinic, she had done it: she was vaccinated.
“It was really affirming to know that I could achieve something that felt impossible for me,” she wrote.
In the four months since, thousands of Canadians have messaged Yammine over social media to share that they, too, are debilitated by needle fear or medical anxiety. “These are people who know how important vaccination is and who want to be vaccinated, but cannot fathom how to get there,” Yammine said. “And they’ve just been feeling so ashamed and terrified and embarrassed.”
While mild needle fears are common, research suggests that about one in 10 adults are fearful enough to delay or avoid vaccination, making the condition a significant and under-recognized public health concern.
A 2018 review by U.S. researchers suggested 27 per cent of hospital workers avoided the flu vaccine due to needle fear.
With more than 80 per cent of eligible Ontarians now fully immunized against COVID-19, experts believe people with needle phobia and other forms of medical anxiety likely make up a significant portion of the holdouts, and that more must be done to accommodate them.
In recent weeks, as anti-mandate protesters have targeted hospitals, terrorized healthcare workers and even entered a school while demonstrating in B.C., the public has shown a growing impatience with unvaccinated people, and a failure, at times, to recognize that angry anti-vax mobs represent only a small portion of the 14 per cent of people who have not yet received a single dose of the vaccine.
In the population as a whole, only about two to five per cent are absolute refusers, said Dr. Noni MacDonald, a physician and professor of pediatric infectious diseases at Dalhousie University who studies vaccine hesitancy. “But for the rest, there’s usually a reason.” Often the reason is a barrier that needs to be overcome: a single mother who hasn’t found the time, a hesitant individual who hasn’t had their questions answered; people whose fears haven’t been addressed.
Early on in the vaccine rollout, survey results suggested that a majority of Canadians planned to get the vaccine, while a very small number were firmly against it, and roughly a quarter were maybes, or the “movable middle,” who would need help or convincing.
“The population we used to call the ‘movable middle’ has become smaller, because a lot of those people have already been moved — to immunization,” MacDonald said. “But within that group that is not vaccinated, we do have a significant number where pain is an issue and needle phobia is an issue,” MacDonald said.
Since sharing her story, Yammine has become an unofficial vaccine therapist for people with fear and anxiety. People DM her daily on Instagram to ask for advice; they confess that they haven’t yet been vaccinated against COVID-19; they share stories of struggle or triumph; they even reach out in desperation from waiting rooms when they are in a panic and about to flee.
Her own anxiety comes from trauma, not the prick of the needle itself, which is why she prefers the term needle anxiety over needle phobia.
“I’m not afraid of pain,” she said. “I menstruate. I do Muay Thai kickboxing. I’ve been punched in the face.”
The fear started when she fainted during a routine vaccination at school when she was 12 — a frightening experience that was mishandled by medical professionals, she said. Her concerns about fainting were dismissed at future appointments, which led to more fainting episodes and further trauma. The fear comes from everything associated with the needle, including the medical setting, she said.
Yammine started preparing for her COVID-19 vaccine far in advance of her appointment. She did seven hours of therapy. She found a numbing cream that desensitized her skin to distract from what was happening. She selected an accessibility clinic that could offer accommodations such as privacy and a place to lie down, so she didn’t have to worry about panicking or fainting in front of people. She worried that her reaction might deter others from getting the vaccine.
“I didn’t want to mess up anyone else’s vibe.”
She did a practice visit to the clinic the night before. During the vaccination, she closed her eyes and listened to Beyoncé through her headphones. Her partner stood nearby. It was the first time in a long time she got a shot without fainting.
Candace Alper, a marketing professional from Richmond Hill, was one of the people who saw Yammine’s story, and thought: That’s me.
Alper, 47, can’t pinpoint when her fear started, but she has been dealing with it her entire life. As a university student, she avoided a trip abroad because she couldn’t bring herself to get the required vaccines. During childbirth, she refused an epidural because the needle frightened her more than the pain of labour.
Alper had felt, at certain points in her life, that people thought she was just being difficult, or her fear wasn’t real. She started chatting online with Yammine. “Here was this person saying, ‘This is a real thing.’ It was pivotal for me,” she said.
When Ontario began its COVID vaccine rollout, Alper knew she would eventually have to get “the jab” — a term, heard daily on the news, that stirred up dread. She has vulnerable family members. She works for an organization that provides support and services to children facing life-threatening and chronic illness.
“Knowing the people we support and what they’re going through, I couldn’t just say ‘No, I can’t get a needle.’ ”
Mass vaccination centres weren’t going to work for Alper. “I couldn’t think of anything more triggering for someone like me than a big facility with hundreds of people getting needles,” she said. Aside from a calmer environment, two things were essential to achieving her goal: her mother-in-law, who has been her support person for every needle she has received in recent years; and a sedative.
Alper attempted her first dose at a small clinic in the spring, but the anti-anxiety medication didn’t kick in and she left in a panic. She tried again about a month later and got the first dose over with.
In August, after learning from Yammine about a specialized clinic for people with needle phobia at the Centre for Addiction and Mental Health, Alper made an appointment for her second dose.
It was the most comfortable Asper had ever felt getting a needle. The clinic had a calm atmosphere, no medical equipment in view, extra time between appointments so she didn’t feel rushed, a private space to lie down and compassionate staff. CAMH uses the CARD system, an evidencebased approach to managing stressful situations that emphasizes comfort, offering time to ask questions, relaxation and distraction.
CAMH has held five needle phobia clinics as part of its lastmile vaccination effort, with a sixth scheduled for Sept. 27. About 250 people have been vaccinated at the clinics, while each day another eight to 10 people with needle fear visit regular clinics, where the hospital can also accommodate their needs.
Elsewhere in Toronto, cityrun clinics offer accessibility accommodations, but requests can only be made when patients arrive, not in advance.
Meghan McMurtry, an associate professor of psychology at the University of Guelph who studies needle phobia, argued in the New York Times that needle fear is an under-recognized vaccination challenge. In an interview, McMurtry said people with high levels of needle fear need evidence-based interventions, including therapy, long before they arrive at vaccine clinics, in order to get them there in the first place.
“If you have a significant fear, even talking about needles makes you want to run the other way,” she said. “The help needs to come before the vaccination.”
Yammine said people with needle fear or medical anxiety shouldn’t be afraid to ask for accommodations, especially now that clinics are less busy and focused on serving people who are harder to reach. “Whatever you need to be able to get your vaccine can be arranged,” she said. “Your healthcare provider will do whatever they can to break down the barriers, so please just ask.
“And if you can’t find someone who will do that for you, let me know,” she added. “I’ll find you someone.”
The Last Shot is an occasional series examining what it will take to reach the unvaccinated and move us past the pandemic.