To some of you this may look minor but to me it is rather disgusting. You see, I had put some olive oil in the back of the van not knowing it fell in the stroller. When Krista and I took the kids up to Tahoe I went to take the stroller out and the olive oil fell on the ground breaking everywhere. Krista, being the kind cousin that she is, decided to help me clean it up.
I then go to the front of the van and proceed to change a diaper when Krista comes running around saying she cut her finger really bad. She opens her hand and I see a lot of blood. I hate blood. I hate my own blood. I hate my kids blood. I make Glenn take care of blood. It makes me pass out when I see blood. The problem is that Krista also hates blood and is looking to me to help her out. No adrenaline kicking in making me be able to brave it.
I then proceed to run around the parking lot asking anyone and everyone for a first aid kit. Problem is, I hate blood and I have NO idea what to do to fix this bloody mess. Someone gets me a first aid kit and I attempt to bandage it--I should have taken a picture. I keep telling Krista that I may have to take her to the emergency room because I can't look at that mess.
Instead of the emergency room I found a couple of tough looking guys and asked them if they can handle blood. They say, yea. Whew! The one guy says he just trained for something in the army and he could fix that finger. I was so relieved. He fixed her up and off we went.
She was in pain and the cut hurt so I called Ruth to see if we could stop by for her to look at it. Instead, she told me to call Dean and stop by the fire station. We did--the medic looked at it and said, let me go get a band-aid. Really? A band-aid. We felt cool.
I'm just saying that it looks pretty nasty to me. Would you have got stitches in that finger?
Amanda--stop laughing at us.