Solutions not Resolutions – Yikes!
Do you know what’s sad? I can watch the scariest, goriest movie without batting an eye, I can cut myself and draw significant blood (accidentally, of course) and it does not faze me in the slightest, but any open wound on my loved ones turns me into a useless ball of mush. This is something as a responsible parent you don’t want to be doing – you want to be in complete control and come to that family member’s aid in as quickly and as expeditiously a manner as possible. I do try. I have driven my boy to the hospital before, to get stitches in his chin, but I was a shaky, fumbling mess the whole time.
I pulled a tack out of my foot today without a second thought, after driving it right in to the head. There was only a little blood. I threw on some antiseptic ointment and a bandage and it was no big deal. But last night my boy got a tiny cut on his head and that meant trouble. It wasn’t serious, but because there were tears and blood that was real and not mine, there I was again…goo.
I’ve had to envision horrible scenes for my stories, I’ve seen every Saw movie there is in all its graphic detail, but I can’t seem to cure myself of an inhibition to handle any cut worse than a scratch, or any damage worse than a bruise. Fate forbid I might find myself having to deal with a broken bone someday (I just knocked on wood …or the plywood conglomerate they use in furniture that passes for wood nowadays.) So much for the tough and gritty horror writer – eh?
And the worst part is, I can’t figure out a solution for this one. The only way to desensitize myself to such things would be repetitive exposure, and I certainly wouldn’t want that. In the end I guess I’ll just have to rely on my husband’s help with these events and admit there might be some issues I’ll never be able to completely conquer.
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