Others may not agree, but I like to consider myself a pretty tough chick. I can handle getting 8 vials of blood taken at once, 4 hours straight of a tattoo needle jabbing into my back, a clogged infected tit, and liquid diarrhea. Is that not the definition of tough right there?
There’s one thing I really don’t deal with quite as gracefully as what I listed above. Blood. And not really blood specifically, but wounds. Open oozing chunky wounds.
Movie gore I can handle because I know it’s fake, but if I see surgery or those ridiculous ‘falling down and breaking a bone out of the skin’ shows, I have to look away. It turns my stomach.
I’d been lucky enough up to this point that the boys had never really had anything other than a bleeding lip or scratched up knee. Nothing too intense or disgusting to have to clean up.
I’ve been worried about Parker and his lack of fear to climb to the highest point in the house and bounce up and down. It just seemed like a recipe for disaster.
I was sitting and reading a book this afternoon while the boys played in Parker’s room when I heard a loud crash followed by Parker screaming. Great. He fell off of something else.
I rushed into the room to find Parker on his back, legs in the air, mouth wide open. It appeared that he’d climbed on top of the huge box of Pampers we got in the mail today and fallen off. Not that it was so unusual for him to do something like that.. he does crap like that at least twice per day. I picked him up and calmed him down and he was fine after that.
It wasn’t until an hour later that I noticed a large red spot on the back of his head. I thought at first that it was a red bump from his fall, but when I got in closer and moved his hair out of the way I saw that it was a bloody wound on top of a huge lump. My stomach instantly turned. I can only compare it to that feeling you get as you go down the huge drop on a rollercoaster.
I scooped him up and rushed him to the bathroom so I could clean it off and make sure it wasn’t a gaping wound in need of stitches, but the more I cleaned it the more nauseous I got. I could just feel the huge lump and saw the cut in his head and seriously wanted to pass out.
Luckily it was NOT an open gaping wound in need of stitches, but it was still enough to make me refuse to go near it for the rest of the day. Any time his head got near me, touched me, or I could feel that bump- I had to suppress the urge to hurl. Absolutely disgusting.
I fear for the day one of the boys skins a knee while riding a bike, or breaks a bone and bleeds all over the place, or picks at a scab and it gets infected and pusses all over the place. I really might die.. and then they’ll lose a limb from gangrene. That’s bad for everyone!
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