5:10 am, somewhere in central California: our intrepid heroine is snuggled under the comforter with her cat-kids, blissfully sleeping to the sounds of purring & gentle rain falling on the roof.
Suddenly, a voice pierces through the veil of slumber-
“Uh, Meg, could you give me a hand?”
As she attempts to pry her eyelids open, the first conscious thought is:
“Go away- I don’t have to get up yet!”
followed swiftly by:
“Who turned the *&^%$#@! bedroom light on?”
Slowly, as her vision begins to clear, the face of her beloved husband comes into focus, peering at her from about a foot away (third conscious thought “I certainly hope he’s brushed his teeth already!”) It takes only a split second to realize something is different- there are strange shadows along his neck & chest…the side of his head seems to be wrapped in a red striped towel…only they don’t have any red striped towels…
Fully awake now, she pops straight up, smacking foreheads with her ever-lovin’; once the virtual meteor shower dies down, he explains that he nicked his earlobe while shaving in the shower (without a mirror- big twit) & can’t seem to stem the flow long enough to get a bandage on it.
Okay then- her devoted spouse requires first aid- no problem.
Well, except one small thing- hardly worth mentioning.
Meg doesn’t do blood.
Honestly.
Boom-boom, out-go-the-lights time; really not dignified at all.
But, a loved one is in need, so into the fray she goes.
She follows him into the bathroom, lays out all the supplies on the counter, & turns to face the patient; he removes the bloodstained washcloth from his ear & she begins to wash away the bright red marks covering his neck & shoulder, when blood begins to ooze again, dripping on her hand.
All of a sudden, there are stars sparkling in her peripheral vision & the sound of buzzing hornets in her head; seeing her visibly paled countenance, her better half slaps a wad of tissues to his head, yells for the young son-and-heir to haul tuckus in here, & leads her quickly back to the bedroom, suggests that she might want to lay down for a minute. Their son, remembering his first aid course, advises that her feet need to be raised above the heart, but there aren’t enough pillows, so…
5:25 am finds the lady of the house arranged at the foot of the bed, feet propped on the blanket chest & the comforter draped across her form, while the cats stare in a confused fashion & her men folk are in the bathroom, patching up Dad’s ear & doing their level best not to giggle.
The Queen is not amused.
9 comments:
Maybe the Queen is not but I am... amused that is.
Methinks the King should have called upon the first-aid trained heir in the first place and letteth her queasy highness sleep.
Oi...sounds like a lot of blood and it makes me a little dizzy thinking of it :P
Hope the hubs won't need a transfusion or anything! LOL
Poor kitties, now they're going to be traumatized!
Hope YOU'VE recovered too!
Oh my goodness, Ms. Meg.... I didn't know you had a slight um... aversion... to the sight of blood. Remind me to NEVER changes jobs for a day with you then, k? ;o)
Hee! Like Dory, I have a job that deals in blood...I promise to warn you before I talk about it in my blog!
Hope you're recovered, and your husband, too!
It sounds like her royal highness is a wee bit sqeamish! I'm fine with blood...as long as it's not mine! lol
Holy cow, you really don't do blood, do you? I would think after all the kids are about grown and all the years of bloody knees and noses that would go away...hmmm, it doesn't huh?
That doesn't give me much hope for the years of puke (that I really DON'T DO!) I have coming to me! LOL
Oh my goodness! What a way to wake up! :) I love the way you told your story. I can just picture it.
That is so cute!
I stopped by looking for The Simple Woman's Daybook post. Hmm . . . I think that's how I came across you in Blogville. If not, please pardon my faux pas.
aww, sorry you had a strange evening.
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