I think the fear of blood goes back to when you were a kid. Think about that statement. When you were little how many times would you fall down, get a bump or bruise, ignore it and keep playing? However, if you fell down and scraped yourself and saw just a trickle of blood you’d start bawling. But of course then the School Nurse or your mom would come rushing to your aid. “Oh my god, are you ok?” Then they would wipe your tears away, spray some anti-bacterial stuff on the scratch, throw a band aid on it and you would be better. But the attention and the reaction that you got from the sight of blood put a fear in us at a young age.
That fear of blood can consume you. Years ago I was in the passenger seat of my friend’s car and we were driving to the Jersey Shore. I was sipping on a plastic jug of iced tea and we were cruising down the Atlantic Expressway. We were surprised that there wasn’t much traffic and we were getting ready for a weekend of insanity and pure on debauchery. Suddenly a car stops out of nowhere, causing a chain reaction crash. My head slammed into the windshield, totally cracking the glass. On my way up, I smashed my lip into the dashboard. Although, somewhat shocked, I was fine.
I was fine until I got out of the car. I felt my lip and it felt moist and saw a little bit of blood. It was night time and I looked down at my shirt and it was very wet and sticky. The front of my shirt, and I hate to say this, but I was wearing a surgeon’s shirt, but hey it was the eighties, was mostly covered in liquid. At that moment I freaked the fuck out! I thought I had a serious injury and would have to be rushed to the hospital. Did the sight of blood cause this? Hell, yeah it did! My lip had a small scratch which made me over analyze the situation.
The “blood” on my shirt was actually iced tea from the jug that spilled all over me during the crash. If I had never seen that little dribble of blood from my lip, I would have been completely calm and fine. Yes, I would have cracked the windshield, but would have said, “Fuck it, everything is cool. Thank god I have such a hard head!”
To be continued...
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I broke my nose on a jungle gym when I was 4 years old. I was on the top rung and said, "Look! No hands!" Then proceeded to flip forward, smashing my nose on the rung below. Not only did my nose break, but the middle part ripped up and I had to have it sewn back on. Gross. I will never forget climbing down and the pre-school teacher running towards me. I looked down and my face, the whole front of my new velvet coat and the ground was soaked with blood. I was 4 and will never forget the screaming from the teachers and other students. It was as if I was in a war-zone!
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