When I was pregnant and dreaming of my girl I made little lists in my head of the things I wanted her to inherit from me, along with the things I hoped she wouldn't get.
The list of "good" things was not very long but I did hope she would get my green eyes. These eyes are also my mother's eyes and my sister's eyes and I liked the idea of passing them on. I like that our eye color is so changeable. Sometimes they're blue, other times bright green - especially if we've been crying.
Of course genetics don't listen to wishes and my girl's eyes came out the most beautiful shade of brown, just like her father's.
One thing on my list not to pass along was my extreme reaction to physical trauma - especially if it involves blood. I've had this problem all of my life and it is out of character with the rest of my take-no prisoners personality. Despite lots of internal pep talks, the net result of many minor to moderate injuries has been me fainting. One time a nurse was taking my blood and not only did I pass out, but as a bonus I went into convulsions.
That is not to say that I'm not good in an emergency, I am. During the time of the emergency, when every thing/one is chaotic and panicking, I shine. If no one is taking charge, I take charge. If someone has taken charge I ask them for orders or start taking on jobs. I'm good this way. If you need a ride to the hospital, or a tourniquet, ask me.
The problem comes after the adrenaline has worn off. Once the emergency is over, when everyone is safe and sound, the realization of what I have just seen or done kicks in and I pass out.
Once Xav decided to prune our palm tree with a machete. Before I knew it, he'd put a nine inch palm frond through his finger next to the bone. I wrapped up his hand, drove him to the hospital and took care of everything. I waited until he was admitted and in good hands. I sat on the floor under his gurney listening to the scrape, scrape scrape of scalpel against bone.
And then the bees came.
The bees are my early warning system that I am going away for a while. They start faintly in the background and as they get louder my vision turns to tunnel and before you know it, I'm out. I know the symptoms well enough now to sit down ahead of time, but by the time I can hear the bees I've usually lost the ability to speak. Sometimes I can whisper something lame like "I'm going to..." but not always.
This is not a quality I wanted to pass to my kids.
The other day Cassandre and Juju were rough housing (as usual) when Juju played too hard (as usual) and jumped up and hit her really hard head under Cassandre's chin. Bam! Cassandre bit her tongue and started crying (as usual).
She came into my room and at first I didn't take her seriously. Crying is a tactic of hers to both get attention for herself and to get her sister into trouble and I've learned to take her tears with a grain (or a handful) of salt.
I advised her to calm down, to take a drink of water and to show me her injury. Her tongue was bleeding and there was a visible booboo, but she wasn't able to spit enough blood (despite lots of trying) to make me worry. I informed her with a smile that the tongue heals faster than any other part of the body and that by tomorrow she'll hardly notice a thing.
She looked at herself in the mirror and stuck her tongue out to examine her injury. The next thing I knew she had dropped my ceramic cup into the sink with a loud clang. I started to scold her for being careless when I realized that the rest of her body was crumbling in front of me.
I caught her just before she hit the sink.
I called Xav for help and together we carried her back to our bed. We raised her feet on pillows and put a cool cloth on her forehead. She started mumbling like she was waking up and slowly came to. We made her stay on the bed for a few more minutes but soon she was able to get up and walk around. She was hungry and wanted breakfast. By the time we were finished eating she was completely back to normal so we got in the car and I drove her to school.
On the ride to school I asked her what she felt/saw/heard as she was passing out and she told me about hearing the buzzing.
The bees came for her too.
Oh bummer! I guess she won't be the doctor in our family.I am lucky, no bees. But give me a good dose of caffeine and I ama panic attack waiting to happen!! I'm hoping I don't pass that one on!
Posted by: Kapolnek Family | 05/23/2008 at 07:45 PM
Aww, poor kid.
Poor you.
My spouse passes out from low blood sugar.You can really get a good knock on the head if your don't catch yourself as I'm sure you know. Hopefully, there will always be someone to catch your little girl if the bees come again.
Posted by: Caprica | 05/23/2008 at 08:05 PM
thank goodness you were able to catch her before she hit the sink! i sure hope that it doesn't happen again.i had a friend who has the same thing as well. she fell down, grazed her knee and saw blood and she fainted. her friends brought her to her room and laid her down. she woke up, saw the blood on her knee and fainted again. lol. she was ok the second time she woke up, luckily.
Posted by: Melissa | 05/23/2008 at 09:39 PM
well lucky her, she gets both bees AND anxiety. she's the only 10 year old i know who regularly needs prilosec. she's so empathetic, I think she'd make a good doctor, but she's decided she would rather be an actress.
Posted by: karen | 05/24/2008 at 09:44 PM
Hopefully, there will always be someone to catch your little girl if the bees come again
From your mouth to god's ears. Until she does, I'm pretty sure that's my job.
Posted by: karen | 05/24/2008 at 09:46 PM
I've learned to look away from my blood and I think i'm going to have to teach my girl to do the same thing. I hope your friend has outgrown her squeamishness.
Posted by: karen | 05/24/2008 at 09:48 PM
I'm so glad that it wasn't any worse. I've never heard fainting described in such a way. It made me feel like I was there with you both. Doesn't sound like a fun experience. Ugh - hopefully this won't be the norm for her!
Posted by: AshbyChick | 05/25/2008 at 07:00 PM
"The bees come for her too"...what a poetic way to describe it.
Posted by: Barry | 05/29/2008 at 07:38 AM
this story is so beautiful. did you tell her that you call the buzzing sound "the bees", or will you let her make up her own term for it?
Posted by: Lily O Muircheartaigh | 05/29/2008 at 02:44 PM
hopefully this won't be the norm for her
We will have to see. She got a bloody nose at school yesterday and she told me that that she had to put her head between her knees....
Posted by: karen | 05/29/2008 at 06:36 PM
thank you.
it's not poetry when you fall on your face, though.
;-)
Posted by: karen | 05/29/2008 at 06:37 PM
funny you should ask.
i purposely did not tell her about "the bees"
she's ten and she's afraid of bees,
and now she's afraid of fainting
so i think i'll leave well-enough alone.
i might tell her when she gets older and we need something to bond over.
Posted by: karen | 05/29/2008 at 06:39 PM
it's not poetry when you fall on your face, thoughthe arc of some of my most famous pratfalls could make your heart ache. ply me with beer and I may tell you of them.
Posted by: Barry | 05/29/2008 at 06:48 PM
I like the way you share a story with humor and grace. I've only fainted once, but that was due to being ill, but was always squeemish to the sight of blood (cleaning fish especially) I'd start that dry heaving puky thing that many folks do when something disagrees with them. So I understand. Hopefully it doesn't last an entire life, but if it does, at least there's laughter. My mother to this day makes fun of my crying while vomiting and it's actually very funny to hear her do it. Do they make a "Bees-B-Gone"? by chance?
Posted by: JD | 10/09/2008 at 01:10 PM