Stomach of Steel
At least it used to be ...
NOTHING bothered me.
Don't believe me?
What if I tell you that I have worked as both a CNA and a Medical Assistant and thoroughly enjoyed it?
What if I tell you that I worked on the Alzheimer's unit? (We're talking bodily fluids galore. Not a twinge.)
Still not sure?
How 'bout if I mention that I was usually the one who bandaged up my VERY accident prone little sister while she was hysterical over her current loss of blood?
Watching my almost two year old gash her head open? Distressing, but not nausea-inducing ...
Stomach of Steel
You know the time when this happened?
I thought that, as far as the quease factor goes, I handled things pretty well.
Sure, I did have to sit down as they were stitching her up so that I didn't embarrass myself by falling down (It was the logical thing to do. We'd have looked strange if I landed on her and they accidentally stitched us together. :) Right?) and I did almost gag when I saw her poor filleted finger covered in all that blood, but it was a wierd one time fluke.
Funny thing though; the flood gate seems to have opened. Took me a while to realize it though ...
Finally, a month or two ago, I was forced to admit that steel has quivered into jello. As a good friend told me about her AWFUL surgery -- something that would have been simply interesting in times past -- I felt my world closing in on me, and I very nearly lost anything residing in my stomach all over the front lawn.
Nearly vomitting AND passing out just from hearing about something with a "Wooze" factor? SO not like me! Must be the sun ...
there was that one time. Oh, yeah -- and that time that ... And, well, ...
Apparently, that's me.