I remember freaking out in primary school because someone had V* in my class. We were ushered out to art (and I remember telling the teacher I had to go home, I was crying and panicking). The teacher told me "he'll be fine" and I remember saying, "I'm not worried about HIM!"
I was worried I was contaminated.
I've always had a "germ" thing, since I could talk. My grandmother would open me a Popsicle and I would make her wash it because she touched it. I was five. I also ate MnM's with a spoon so I wouldn't have to touch them.
Yea, my parents didn't care, my mom would kind of feed my fear by saying things like "people get sick, no big deal" but it was, and they never understood.
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