I discovered this today. Hurting someone, even if its for their own good, makes me feel like throwing up.
I've been to hospital twice this week. The first time was to support the boyfriend (Corey, as he shall now be called) through having his wisdom tooth out. I had a molar taken out when I was about 14, and the anesthetic didn't work. I think I went into shock, because, instead of telling him I hurt, I grabbed the dentists hand and held on tight. To be fair, all I could think was, if I talk, he might cut my tongue, if I pull his hand away, it'll hurt even more. So, basically, Corey having his tooth removed worried me a little. What happened was the anesthetic didn't work for him. But instead of going ahead with the operation, they checked to see if it hurt. He said it did. They gave him some more. It still hurt. So they scheduled him in for a general. Half way home, I looked at his face as he talked...the anesthetic had kicked in by then, making his face incredibly numb. It was incredibly amusing. I took a video and put it on facebook. This was not the time when I had my above epiphany...
Corey works in Sainsbury's, as a pharmacy assistant. Its about 5 miles away, so he cycles there and back. Until today all I've had to deal with is him getting a flat tyre, with a foot of snow on the ground, his phone going flat and him turning up home 2 hours after he was due back. Which was worrying for me, but all was well that ended well. Today, however, he comes into the house, and the first thing he asks, before coming upstairs, is whether we have antiseptic wipes. I ask him what he's done. Silly boy fell off his bike. He comes upstairs, blood dripping from his knee, shoulder and ankle. His left thumb looks swollen. He insists its just a sprain, I think otherwise and tell him we're going to A & E. I'm not at all queasy when it comes to blood. I've worked as a health care assistant and seen a lot. I also injure myself a lot. So I know how to deal with minor wounds. I cleaned him up, and he went to have a shower. Only for me to hear him call out "Is this what it feels like before fainting? I can't really see anything, its all gone white. And the sounds become muffled". He remains standing in the shower. I have to rush in, turn off the water and order him out of there. Luckily we have no locks on the door. Left to his own devices he would have collapsed then and there. Once I got him lying down, and after the faintness had passed, he had something to eat and drink. I had another fight on my hands: he insists he can walk. I inform him he nearly fainted not that long ago, we are taking a taxi. My logic prevailed.
Three hours later, and one plaster cast (he had, it turns out, broken his wrist.) we're out of A & E. We decided to go and eat at a pub, since we were both shattered and neither of us wanted to cook. It was a lovely meal, but throughout it all, I was psyching myself up for what I would have to do when I got home...The nurse said Corey needed to scrub his wounds properly. As he had a broken wrist, I knew I would have to scrub his deepest wound on his arm. Scrub it good and proper. I was not looking forward to it at all.
It turns out I'm pretty damn good at dealing with emergency situations (as I had to in hospital). I'm just as good at dealing with first aid, bleeding etc etc. But when it comes to scrubbing someones wound and hurting them, I can't handle it. It took me a minute or two to be able to actually lift the sponge I was using to do it with. I felt sick as I tried to get all the dirt out. I felt dizzy. Corey had to look away so that I couldn't see him flinch. Because every time he flinched, I flinched harder. Apparently it looked like it was tougher on me than it was on him.
And now I know...I am not a sadist.