I suddently realized something

Last night, Alan came dashing into the bedroom, heading toward the bathroom, and said, "I need your help." I asked, "In what way?" He said, "I cut myself really bad."

Okay. I let that process into my brain. I saw him holding his hand and then he was running water into the sink holding his hand. I thought we were out of band aids and I was looking for something to wrap around this horrible cut. I asked him how long the cut was and he told me it was about two inches long on his finger.

I grabbed a paper towel and wrapped his finger and squeezed it, at which time he told me it hurt and to stop squeezing. I was trying to stop the bleeding on this two-inch cut on his finger. One small squeeze and the bleeding stopped and I was able to take some time to find the band aids.

Okay, so the cut was only about 1/2 inch and after I stopped the bleeding (and he told me he'd probably need stitches), I couldn't even find the cut about which to wind the band aid.

I mean, I've had paper cuts that were worse than that cut. I do have to allow that it did bleed a bit in the sink while he was running water over it. But after I wrapped it with a paper towel and gave it a squeeze, it was really hard to find because it closed right up. And there was no way he needed stitches.

I think he over reacted, but he does tend to bleed a bit when he gets a cut. Too bad they can't get him to bleed that much when they do a blood draw, which is part and parcel of his life. In fact, we have to head over to the lab today to get another one. Poor guy.

I guess until you've been poked and prodded as much as he has, as his wife, I really should sympathize more when he gets a small 1/2 inch cut on his finger.

ttfn