Wednesday, September 30, 2009

The power of Christ compels thee.



A couple of weeks ago, my oldest daughter had a nosebleed in the morning. What unfolds next is no exaggeration nor embellishment on the details. I still can’t get the images of that day out of my head.

WARNING: The following story is graphic and gross.

My usual routine in the morning is shower, make lunches for both Ruby and I, brew coffee, eat breakfast, iron shirt and get my ladies up. Jen is first on my route, with Ruby being the next stop and then finally AVA. This particular morning the wife was slow getting out of bed, so I was already in the bathroom messing up my coif. Usually at some point Ruby saunters in to relieve the morning dew collection. So as I am fiddling with my hair, I hear her say, “Man, why is my nose running?” When I look at her, I notice a bit of blood around the nostril rim and some blood on the back of her hand from doing the no-kleenex-snot-wipe.

Alright, no big deal, just a nosebleed. So I use all the information I have gathered in my years of dealing with nosebleeds, which apparently was all wrong. More on this later. I grab a tissue and proceed to apply pressure to the middle part of her nose.

"This should clear up in few minutes, so don't worry Ruby."

10 minutes later, the nose is still bleeding. Actually, more like gushing. I start to panic a bit, Jen is avoiding the situation due to fainting issues with blood, which in turn makes me a bit short with Ruby. She obviously is scared to have blood stream out of her nose and into her mouth and on her lap. Big scarlet red drops are falling just like the few seconds before a summer downpour. The cries of a frightened 6-year old only heighten the mood.

20 minutes later. I say, "I think it may have stopped." Negative. Bleeding comes back with a vengeance. The bleeding snarls at me with a "Fuck you old man, I am taking this one." A huge, snotty clot shoots out her nose. This causes a chain reaction of gagging and a bit of vomit. I am completely beside myself. SCARED. Jen asks if she should call the doctor from her hunched over position on the floor.

"Hell yeah."

Could this get any worse? Can the doctor save the day on this 30-minute bloodletting? The doctor asks her questions and I answer them. I feel the fear fading a bit...maybe it will be all right. Nope. No way, no how.

What happens now is something I don't even think I can begin to convey in words the sheer horror that I witnessed. Or, how completely scared Ruby was at what was the largest amount of blood, bile and phlegm to come out of her mouth. It ran like a crimson river down her chin and chest into her lap. I know I called for Jesus, God and Calgon in that moment. I know the doctor was trying to reel me back in. I know Jen was close to blacking out. I know that my white shirt had miraculously avoided the bloodshed that was taking place in our very little bathroom. I know that Ruby was still sitting on the toilet from her morning pee.

Finally, after an aeon of 45 minutes, the bleeding subsided. The fear is gone, with only a slight hangover of emotional exhaustion. Ruby seems to be okay, but is understandably worried that it will start bleeding again. Jen is able to walk around. And, Ava? Not sure what she was doing this whole time.

Before the phone call ended with the doctor she gave me some tips: Blow your nose to remove clots, as they will often not stop the bleeding and will in turn cause you to swallow massive amounts of blood. Also, pinch the nose shut at the nasal entrance, while leaning forward. If possible, ball up some tissue and shove it in the nose hole as a plug.

I felt like Father Karras after that...well, except for the whole hurling myself out the window bit. I think that may have been a bit of overkill to stop a nosebleed. Yeah, that's right. Fuck you nosebleed, till we meet again.

3 comments:

Jennifer said...

note from paramedic: your Wife was passed out cold on the floor. The smelling salts brought her to. we realized when we saw the image on the computer this must have been the cause. Good thing your child knew to dial 911. (this is of course a joke folks-Jen)

Jennifer said...

I do just want to add...Keith, I was yelling SOME instructions from the floor regarding your "tone" with our poor little lady, not a complete loser Mom in the situation...just mostly.

Blackjaw said...

Not a loser mom, just a person with an aversion to blood. We all have our own kryptonite.

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So the main reason for this blog is to post scribbles I have done. I may post other illustrators' stuff that I find and want to share. I may post things unrelated to drawing. One thing you can count on is that I will bore you to death...too DEATH.

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