Emetophobia

According to dictionary.com, Phobia is defined as "a persistent, irrational fear of a specific object, activity, or situation that leads to a compelling desire to avoid it." 

Guilty.  I have a phobia of other people (or myself) vomiting.  It's not because I have a weak stomach and I can't handle it--in fact, it takes a LOT to make me get sick.  It's just an irrational fear.  I hate to admit it, but I avoid public restrooms because I'm afraid someone will come in and get sick while I'm in there.  AND I have been known to plug my ears any time Cody gets up in the middle of the night to use the restroom just because I think there is a possibility that he may puke.  I have a whole list of avoidance behaviors I could tell you but i'm afraid it's too embarrassing because I'm aware of how ridiculous it is. 

Out of curiosity I looked it up.  The fear of vomiting is defined as emetophobia.  At least I know I'm not the only one.

It does, however, make for some fairly entertaining stories when I do encounter the situation.  And I did, last week...
I'm currently doing a physical therapy clinical affiliation at a skilled nursing facility.  I was responsible for evaluating a new patient.  She was very morbidly obese, and completely dependent.  We were slowly trying to get her from her bed to a wheelchair (this is really a total lift that my instructor and another male had to do while I held her trunk upright).  All the sudden she starts complaining of her stomach and asks us to get her a bucket.  OH. MY. WORD.  Total panic comes over me and my heart rate immediately jumps up. 

There were 3 of us working with her. I ran for a bucket...knocking over everything in my path.  Phone hits the floor, papers fall of the table, cups knocked over. Luckily for me, I wasn't strong enough to move her so my instructor was the one standing in front of her that got to hold the bucket (without gloves) while she threw up in it.  I was, however, holding her up from the back side so I got to feel, hear and smell every.single. heave. 

She finished up just as the bucket was becoming dangerously full.  We go jump it in the toilet, and leave the bucket in the bathroom.  I gave her some water and another smaller bucket to rinse and spit the remains (there were plenty).  She finished up with that and I put the puke backwash on the table. 

We attempt to keep moving her on over to her chair. And it hits her AGAIN.  So I run to the bathroom to get the bucket.  Turns out, someone else had gone in there and locked the door. 

Now I'm really panicking because her lunch is about to be all over the 4 of us. I'm bouncing up and down at this point with my hands shaking and looking around for anything to use.  I spotted the smaller bucket and grabbed it in a run, forgetting that it still had the remains of the last episode in it.  I dumped every bit of it down the front of my scrubs and into the floor.  Perfect.  Turns out, she never even threw up again.

We eventually got her all the way into her wheelchair.  Luckily, it was the end of the day so I got to go home and change. 
I did feel very sorry for her and I didn't let her see how I was freaking out (although my instructor and another guy could tell-which has set me up for teasing).  She didn't need to know my heart was beating so hard I thought it would explode. The anxiety is so bad that I prefer wiping the patients over dealing with this kind of thing.

On a positive note, there is a good thing from all this--I am now CERTAIN that acute care is not my thing.  Outpatient orthopaedics, here I come.