So, at the risk of repeating facts. 

I remember strongly disliking needles at one point. But I'm partly convinced that I got a bad needle the one time I donated blood to a donation drive back in high school. Because I eventually learned that I had an inexplicable (as in no one else in my family has it) condition that nearly killed me at 18. Which now requires me to get stuck on a regular basis for the rest of my life.  

Because God has a sense of humor that way.