Bleeding Wounds

From years ago:
I work in an emergency room, and I'm sometimes assigned to help the triage nurse take initial vital signs, medical history, etc. A few times, I have encountered patients covered with blood, cradling a wound they had bandaged themselves prior to entering the waiting room. The story is always different: Broken crockpot, Stingray bite. Car accident. Tripped and fell. But the patients are the same. Scared, helpless, in pain, hoping for the right kind of help and healing. They tell me that it has been bleeding, they are not sure if it has stopped, and they think they need stitches.

When we bring them back into the ER, we have to remove their makeshift bandages, usually towels or clothing (not necessarily the most sterile of items). They are apprehensive. They do not want to feel pain or risk of seeing or opening the wound again. But they trust. In order to start the healing, we have open their bandages to assess the extent of the damage, clean the cuts, scrapes, gashes, partial amputations, and treat accordingly with bandaids, sutures, staples, antibiotics, or surgery.

Today's takeaway:
I recently had a conversation with my cousin about the importance of being vulnerable in our romantic relationships. She is a self-professed queen of self-help, and recommended a book on the very subject. My dilemma is that I'm afraid to take off the bandages and expose my wounds. Until I do, I don't think I'll be able to heal.

Bad words

I am on a Facebook hiatus, which means I need an outlet for expression. I had come to the realization that I was spending entirely too much time on that social networking site and I was not social nor networking. I convinced myself that I was keeping in touch with friends with a "like" here and a comment there, but it all was superficial. Don't get me started on the creeptastic way I explored, *ahem* stalked, my FB friends.

This week I informally started a personal "dinner with friends" tour. I needed to really catch up beyond cyberspace to vent about and marinate in the states of my world. First dinner was chicken enchiladas and the Book of Life (really cute Day of the Dead themed animated movie) with Jay. Last night, I visited a college friend and shared Halloween pasta (shaped like bats, pumpkins, and spiders) with chicken, artichoke, salad and a side Law and Order SVU.  C moved in with her boyfriend C after much compromise and reconciliation about love, freedom, and personal space. They shared a lot about the place of rationality and practicality in romantic relationships. The consensus was that in order to work, every romantic relationship had to have an element of the irrational, crazy, doesn't make sense chemistry and rapport that Love brings.

I'm in a relationship that I see as very practical. It's comfortable and reliable. He's thoughtful, can cook, and is good with money. The more I explain it, the more I realize it's a bad idea to have practicality as my prevailing sentiment. I should expect that out of my car, not my relationship, right?  Wasn't I supposed to learn this after watching the Joy Luck Club? I'd rather say my partner is boat-loads of fun, laughs, and have a sky's the limit level of adventure-seeking than having a relationship that merely makes sense. C+C explained it a little more clearly last night when they said that you'll need the crazy-in-love part to pick up the practical part when it starts getting boring and mundane. Without that freedom that comes from unbridled love, I will probably start using the words "stuck" and "obligation" when talking about my boyfriend. That would suck. I have used both those words this week.

On another note: C channeled her glorious inner hippy and told me that I might have a cosmic connection to one of my former lovers, because our energies seem intertwined and my subconscious has been creating dreams that compel me to keep in contact with him. This is not to say that I should act on it, but just to respect (from a distance) the feelings he continues to incite. More on that later.

There is a thin line between being overly rational and geeky and clever in this statement. I think it's cute.