Sunday noon, I walked carelessly at home and kicked the wooden doorframe. Not like any bump I had that only cause small scratch and bruise… I was bleedings. Gosh, bleeding wound and I were never been best friend, I got panic attack every time I see bleeding wound. I hate all those movie action with bloody people in every scene. And I’ve seen a couple bloody traffic accidents that left me this kind of trauma. But apparently I just had to walk through this fear.
At the first second I didn’t realize I was bleeding. But after I said “Ouch!”, I felt the floor a bit wet. I lift my foot to see what liquid I just step on. There I saw my horror: Red blood dripped from my foot to the white ceramic floor. My bottom foot covered with red.
My head spin. I didn’t want to drop on the floor, so I took a deep breath and thought, ‘Is it the time when we call someone for a help and go to the hospital?’ Cause I never seen blood that much on the floor.
I was alone with my four year old son, and since I just yelled “Ouch!”, he came to me and asked, “Mom are you bleeding?”
“Yes, I just kicked the door frame…” Blood kept dripped to the floor. My head kept spinned. I took another deep breath.
“Mom’s fine. Can you please get me some tissue and bandage?”
The only thing I thought was how to stop the bleedings. So I sat down on the floor, lifted my foot higher than my body. I was thinking my body as a broken water container. Keep the hole up, so the water won’t litter. I know this seems stupid, but it worked though.
Thanks God, I had this plastic bag filled with a bottle of alcohol and cotton pad near me. So I tried to clean up my foot from red liquid and found the wound. Apparently it’s not big wound. It’s just about 1 inch on the tip of my toe, lies from left to right. I don’t know how that small wound can bleed that much. But the band-aid my son gave was too small. I waited the bleeding stop, as I knew small wound can stop bleeding naturally.
My son gave me a glass of water, and a bag of cookies, which was so sweet. Good things he didn’t afraid of blood. And he covered the red floor with cotton pad and tissue.
When I swept my wound with alcohol, my helper came. (She came every noon to help me do the laundry). Her face was pale white after saw the mess on the floor. I didn’t want to make her trauma or something, so I said, “I’m fine. I just need your help to buy me a large band-aid now.”
I asked my son to take my wallet on my bedroom, gave my helper the money. She went for 20 minutes, and brought me the wide band-aid. She gave it without even looked into my eyes.
“Okay, thank you! I can take cares my self! You can go now! Just do the laundry!”
And that’s it. I clean up the red jelly that covered my wound, and plastered it.
The band-aid turned red, but at least the wound covered.
My son took garbage bin and cleaned up all those red tissue on the floor.
“Kiela, don’t! Mom can do this alone!”
But he kept doing everything. And since the blood on the floor stained, he took wet mop and swept the floor. Did I mention he’s 4years5months old? … He is an angel!