Last night I had an altercation with a wooden gate. As I was shutting it, I walked away from it and it grabbed hold of the back of my ankle and left a huge gash on it. I knew immediately that this was the kind of wound I wouldn't want to see. So I just limp-ran inside, grabbed a wet paper towel and applied pressure.
The pain was intense. I knew it was bleeding profusely and I couldn't bare to look at it. So I didn't, for as long as possible. I just kept applying pressure to it, and switching out the paper towels. When I finally did see it, it was worse than I imagined.
Here's the part where evil people would post a picture of it. But I won't do that because I'm not cruel! I do, however, have a picture of it on my phone so if you want to see it, let me know.
My first thought when I looked at the gash was this:
Guys, here's the thing - it's not THAT bad. I mean, it's gross and it's painful but it's not horrible. It might need stitches but I don't know and I honestly don't think I could survive the process.
One thing this has taught me is that I'm a HUUUUUGE baby when it comes to seeing my own blood. If someone else is bleeding and needs help, I'm ready and able! But seeing my own blood? I can't handle it!
I put a fresh bandage on it this morning and when I went to check on it a little bit ago, it had bled through the bandage and my sock. For about 20 minutes afterward I thought I was either going to throw up or faint.
This is a side of myself I didn't know about. It's not just the blood - it's the pain and the blood. A lethal combination which is turning me into a three year old. (It took five tries for me to spell lethal correctly.)
Is anyone else out there a baby about seeing their own blood?
Boxes of Torque
12 hours ago