I woke up this morning to find my dad leaning over the sink with blood gushing out of his finger. He cut himself while trying to slice a lemon. He takes a blood thinner called Coumadin so he bleeds worse than the rest of us.
I immediately jumped into action, getting the triple antibiotic cream, gauze pads and tape. I got him a chair, wrapped up the wound, put his arm up on pillows and have spent the last few hours trying to convince him to go to the hopsital to get a stitch. His response, "Let's see what it's like in an hour."
He's calm. I'm sick to my stomach. I don't like blood. The sight of it usually leads to me hitting the floor like a sack of potatoes. Oh sure, I'd look cute in a nurse's uniform but I would make the world's worse medical practioner. I couldn't even play a doctor on TV.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
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