I don’t like blood.
Especially other people’s blood.
Especially my Mom’s blood on paper towels, when she’s asking me if I think it was more or less than a tablespoon.
Especially when my Mom is describing the color of the blood to the advice nurse.
…My Mom’s fine though. Well, I mean, she’s not worse or anything, the blood was a normal result of her wound from last week. Just a little blood, we just had to bandage it up. Well, I just had to bandage it up.
That was unpleasant.
But this is why you don’t climb ladders by yourself.
Or be related to people who climb ladders by themselves.
To be fair, there was plenty of unpleasantness two years back when I had surgery, but I didn’t go around asking people questions about whether my wound was bleeding, and then loudly describe the blood to the advice nurse, and then need other people to bandage me up because I was brushing my teeth when my wound just started bleeding. I merely broke my neck. Broken necks don’t require bandages and don’t cause visible blood. They’re just broken. Other people can’t see they’re brokenness, you’re just in pain.
That’s what’s nice about broken bones, they don’t inconvenience others with their visibility. Unless they’re horribly broken. (Oh I hope I never get one of those frighteningly horrible bone breaks. Maybe I’ll live in a bubble. That will protect me…)
ANYWAY, …pray for my Mom. And me. And my family. And that my brother and Dad get less squeamish, so that they can bandage my Mom up next time, and that my Mom keeps getting better.