Saturday, January 25, 2014

Why My Daughter Will (Probably) Never Be A Doctor

Over the weekend we were at the local park. It has a couple of playgrounds, a splash park, a big grass patch for running around and sidewalks that run down along the river. While sitting on a bench watching the kids on the swings, I heard a "THUMP". I looked up and saw a cyclist, on the ground, not moving. The hubby immediately jumped up and ran over to him. A crowd started to gather. I could see the guy's head, face down, and he wasn't moving.

Shit.

The kids started to notice something was going on, so I told them that there had been an accident and to stay here or go to back to the swings, but not to go over there because there were too many people and we needed to give them room.  I tried to keep the kids occupied. Our friends who were visiting from out of town came over and started talking about it. I just wanted to change the subject.

After a few minutes I see the guy start to move a little - phew. He was wearing a helmet, but as hard as he hit, if he hadn't been, I'm pretty sure he wouldn't be with us today. This is where I point out that he was 1 of only 3 of the 10 cyclists in their group who was wearing a helmet. WEAR YOUR HELMETS, PEOPLE!

I started thinking about it. My palms got a little sweaty, and I started to get that little panicky feeling in my chest. I was telling myself to stay calm. I saw blood on his knees and someone said he had blood running down the side of his face. I took a sip of my cherry lime-aid because, for some reason, when I start to get panicky, it seems to help if I drink something cold and sweet.

After about 7 or 8 minutes (which felt like an eternity) the ambulance showed up and the paramedics came strolling down, taking their sweet ass time. I took this as a sign that the guy wasn't in too bad of shape, which was reassuring.

Hubby came back over and said that he thinks he broke his arm and his sunglasses had cut the side of his face - hence the blood. All the guy could remember was his name. He didn't know who the president was or what day it was, and had no clue what had happened. He must have asked half a dozen times.

One of the other kids asked if the 8-year-old wanted to go play and she said no, because her head hurt. I looked at her, she was sitting next to me, and I could see the worry all over her face. She was like looking in a mirror. I had figured out a year-or-so prior that she may take after me with the whole "blood-accident-freak-out" thing when we pulled into a rest stop and there was a guy being loaded into an ambulance on a stretcher. We went into the bathroom and she said she felt lightheaded.

For as long as I can remember, I have had a problem with blood.

Like the time my brother chiseled his finger while in our grandparent's garage. I came sauntering down the stairs in one of my grandmother's dresses and high-heels, took one look at his finger and passed out.

Then there was the time we were chasing each other, he fell, I came running around the corner, saw the blood and hit the deck.

Oh, and how about the time I got my bellybutton pierced, went to pay and fainted right there.

Or when I passed out in the chair getting my first tattoo.

I've passed out when having blood drawn, and getting shots. I fainted in the car on the way home from the hospital after I broke my foot.



The list goes on...and on...and on...It would be fine if I were a fainting goat. That shit is hilarious. But I'm not.

Funny thing is, I would love to be a nurse. I know I can't, because you kind of have to be conscious in order to help someone.

When my daughter has a loose tooth, hanging by a thread, and there is even a hint of blood, she gets a tummy ache and gets all "funny".

I feel terrible that I have passed this trait on to her. For one, it is no fun to feel like you're going to faint anytime there is any sort of emergency, that may or may not involve blood.

I have gotten better, over the years, at calming myself down in those situations. I mean, I've given birth 3 times without passing out. All those blood tests etc. I do like it if the hubby, or my mamma, are there with me, but I can do them alone if I have to.

I don't make a big deal out of the whole thing to my daughter. I don't want to draw any unnecessary attention to it. Maybe she'll outgrow it.

Maybe not.

Either way, something tells me she won't be applying to medical school.

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