As a mom, there are a lot of things that you normally wouldn’t touch, but do so without thought. I’ve picked boogers picked out of tiny nose holes. I’ve gotten poop on my hands while changing diapers or wiping butts and washed it off without a second thought. Vomit in the middle of the night is a nightmare to deal with, but I do it…and with sick season coming, I’m sure it won’t be too long before I have to do it again.
And when the kids fall and skin knees or cut open fingers, I wipe away blood and quickly put a band-aid on it. This is something I would prefer never to have to do. Because I don’t do blood.
I remember one time my brother fell off his bike and busted open his chin. He was just a kid, I must have been in ninth or tenth grade. Anyways, the neighbor ran out to help, and gave him a big old wad of cotton to stop the bleeding. I called my mom, who came home from work, and together we took him to the doctor.
When the doctor came in the room, he pulled the cotton away from my brother’s chin and I saw this big, gaping wound (okay, probably wasn’t that bad) and I stood up, said “I have to go”, opened the door and promptly passed out. That was when my hate/hate relationship with blood began.
Funny Side Note: I passed out, and was mortified to come to with the doctor holding my legs straight up…my unshaven legs. I was more embarrassed that he was touching my unshaven legs than I was that I had passed out. High school girls, right?
Since then, I get woozy at the thought of blood. If I cut myself shaving, I’m lucky if I can get rid of the blood before I start feeling hot and clammy and hear ringing in my ears.
When Mia was jumping on the bed and hit her head on the headboard, requiring a trip to the emergency room, Jason was home and took care of the blood.
But on Sunday, Jason was at work. I was upstairs and the kids were running around downstairs. Right about the time I was getting ready to yell at them to take it outside, I heard a thump and a scream. I thought the girls slammed Ethan’s finger in a door. He ran upstairs, and was covered in blood.
Downstairs he had been running, and turned around to see how far behind his sisters were. When he turned back around, he slammed his forehead straight into a light switch, and gouged his head open.
It looked bad. Really bad.
I went into mom mode, cleaned off all the blood, and got him into the car to head to urgent care. I was feeling a bit queasy, but was more worried about him at the time.
Once we arrived at urgent care, the doctor looked at it and said he needed stitches. I’m still doing ok – more concerned about how scared Ethan is. But once the doctor started in on the stitches? I had come to the end of my rope.
I got hot, but clammy at the same time. I started hearing a weird sound in my ears. If I didn’t sit down, I was going to pass out. I whispered to the nurse I had to sit down. I must have looked pale because she agreed with me. I kept talking to Ethan, with my head between my knees.
5 stitches later, and he is excited now to have a cool addition to add to his Army Ranger Halloween look. A battle wound.
Anybody else hate blood like I do?