Scared of blood

[trigger warning: dead baby]

Chelsea is adorable.  I drove her to university where she’s studying to become a Physical Therapist… because she could never be a surgeon.  Why?  She can’t stand the sight of blood.  Oh gory horror movies are fine, because they’re fake.  But if there’s a real life surgery/operation on TV, she has to change the channel before she faints.  “Nuh-uh!” are the words she uses.

She related a couple examples of her phobia.  One time, she was cutting fruit without a cutting board, and the knife slipped.  Fearing she cut herself, she pleaded with her sister Alice, “Can you look at it?  Is it bleeding?” because she can’t stand to look at her own finger for blood.  Her family makes fun of her incessantly for this.

Another time, she was cleaning a blender and accidentally slashed herself on one of the blades.  Panicking, she shook her hand up and down in the pristine, all-white kitchen to make the pain stop, spraying blood everywhere.  “Alice!  Can you look at it?  Is it bad?”

Alice: “Umm, yeah, it actually is kinda bad…”

Fortunately, their mom was a nurse for over 20 years and was on hand to apply pressure and a bandage to minimize the damage.  Chelsea was able to go to sleep instead of going to Urgent Care.  While she was sleeping, her sister came down and cleaned up the kitchen because she knew if Chelsea walked in the next morning, she’d scream at the crime scene she’d created.  There was blood on the ceiling, the counter, all over the floor, etc.

While she has this phobia about blood, Chelsea is OK with a lot of other things.  One time her school awarded the top students in a contest with a trip to a cadaver museum.  Dried up bodies and dead babies are apparently A-OK, as long as there’s no blood.  She found those fascinating.  In particular, she called out a stillborn baby whose head was partially disfigured.

“It’s like when you have a baby doll as a kid, and its head is messed up…”

“Umm… what do you mean?  Why would your doll’s head be messed up?”

“You know, because you hit something with it.”

“What are you hitting with your dolls?”

“I dunno… my sister.” …as one does.  “You know, it gets a dent in its head, and then you get to fix it.”  If you’re reading this, Alice, you’re my hero!  Chelsea, you’re OK too.

Author: doyouevenlyftbro

I'm a rideshare driver for Lyft collecting adventures and stories throughout my daily travels.

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