Sitting on my bed, I was typing away at the keyboard on some paper that was probably due in two hours when suddenly, I heard a blood curdling scream just outside my door. I slapped my laptop closed, as if I was trying to make a ham sandwich real fast and had to smack the ham down before I starved.
“MARISAAAA YOU’RE GOING TO GET BLOOD ALL OVER THE CARPETTTT”
Without thinking, I ran to my wardrobe and grabbed my first aid kit. It was fully stocked. I had waited a lifetime for this.
“LET ME SEE,”
I screamed as I walked out of my bedroom into the living room. A one and a half inch cut stretched up her ankle like a viscous squirrel crawling up the tree, blood-thirsty for its nuts. Three of my roommates were crowded around Marisa who was holding a crumbled up piece of toilet paper over a bloody wound on her leg.
Ugh can we just talk about the toilet paper they provide in college? It’s like half a ply. And then they play this funny little joke on you and feed you food in the dining hall that makes you wish you had some heavy duty stuff. Woo I’m sorry. This post is a little graphic. Let’s just say the toilet paper was just not holding her gushing blood back from anywhere.
This was my moment. I am not saying that the pain and suffering of others is something I prey upon for my own glory, but we all like to be the hero sometimes. Right?
“SIT DOWN AND PUT YOUR LEG IN THE AIR I’VE GOTTA GIVE IT SOME PRESSURE HONEY,”
I could feel my nurturing side come out as I kneeled down and started rifling through my Hello Kitty Emergency Kit; i had a few cute band aids, a wipe, and a piece of gauze for a hangnail wound. It just wasn’t enough. I had to pull out the big guns. I grabbed my actual first aid kit for actual emergencies, as I am first aid certified after all (shameless self-promotion).
Marisa’s whimpering and whining went in one ear and out the other as I pushed on her wound with my gauzed up thumb like you keep pushing the elevator buttons so that smelly guy coming from the gym can’t ride with you to the nineteenth floor. Oh boy. Elevators. I’m claustrophobic, and I’m going to have my own emergency if I don’t stop thinking about it.
At this point the bleeding just kept getting worse, but Marisa, a hypochondriac did not need to know that.
“How is it, Hannah? Is it stopping????”
“It’s…well…I’m taking care of it. You just sit there real still.”
“Oh NOO IT’S WORSE ISN’T IT I AM GOING TO DIE I NEED TO CALL MY DAD HELPPPP DAD I CANT PRESS THE BUTTONS ITS GOING TO MY HAND”
Somehow she managed to push past the pain her leg wound had put into her hand and dialed her dad.
“DAD HAVE YOU EVER CUT YOURSELF SHAVING??”
At this point, I did not hear the rest of the conversation because I was so focused on making ol faithful come to a halt. It had slowed down, and it was time to clean the wound. It wouldn’t be easy, but it had to be done.
“Marisa,” I told her, “I’m going to need to clean out your cute little cut…with…HYDROGEN PEROXIDE” before I even finished my sentence she was screaming.
“NOOOO no no no. MY LEG I can feel it in my bone, do you think I broke my bone?? I AM DYING I AM going to bleed out. Here I go cruel world. I guess it’s been kind of nice. I did get to eat breakfast this morn—”,
I didn’t let her finish her own eulogy. It couldn’t end like this. There was more to her story. I snatched up the bottle of hydrogen peroxide and poured a few drops on some gauze. It was very cold, and when some fell on my finger, I screamed due to adrenaline. That did not help Marisa. You know, the one who accidentally shaved her legs too hard and was now worried her bone might have broken from impact.
“YOU ARE NOT PUTTING THAT ON MY LEG NOOO. If there’s one thing that hurts it’s stinging!!”
I could not listen to her. I had to do my duty so that it did not get infected. She continued to ramble and scream, and I had to wrestle her like a white water alligator almost to the ground. She squirmed and squealed, but I held down her ankle, and in one strong swipe cleaned the wound right up.
A single tear fell down her delicate cheek as she looked down at me, Nurse Han. I had just broken the sacred trust. But I had also saved her life. She finally sat down on her chair silently and let me put a band aid over her cut. She settled down, as I put my supplies all back in the red bag and took a deep breath.
That must have been the most stressful three minutes of my life. I know I am supposed to be in the Humanities. I have patience, but not for patients.
I picked up my first aid kit and danced into the sunset.
By that I mean went back to my room and took a well-deserved nap.