The squeamish may want to skip my gruesome detailing of this morning’s events. Just warning you now that this post isn’t the usual whimsical philosophical riddle.
I haven’t had much of a will to do anything lately, mostly because I have once again come down with the dreaded sinus infection.
I keep telling Berta that I should have my sinuses removed, but a sinus is actually a body cavity, meaning that it’s an empty space. And how do you remove an empty space? Pack it with chewing gum, I suppose.
This morning at around 5:55, just before the 6am alarm usually goes off, I woke up to what I thought was a runny nose. Oh, great. I rubbed my nose with my hand to “check for leakage”. And in the half-lit bedroom, I noticed that the liquid on my hand was a bit darker than I expected.
By the time I got to the bathroom to effectively deal with the issue, both hands were covered in blood. I looked like I just got finished stabbing someone to death.
I have to say this is the first time this has happened. Usually it’s just a little bit of bloody snot, if that. Usually it’s just the cold medicine that causes it. Today, I’m wondering how much blood I swallowed while I was sleeping.
I always had my suspicions, but I am now fairly certain that the sight of large quantities of my own blood isn’t something I’m going to need to worry about. That is to say, I need not worry about freaking out over the blood itself. The feeling is more one of, “Oh, look, lots of blood. Great.” Years of gory movies have desensitized me, I guess.
Maybe I was just tired. Perhaps I would have freaked out more if I was more awake.
