Every once in a while; I am reminded that I am not in control of things. I mean that no matter how hard I try to get things right, completed, or moving in the direction I want them to go in, there will always be forces and factors that I have no control of. My most recent reminder came from our furbabies. The four of them were outside playing and when I brought them in, I was greeted with a bloody surprise. My oldest and most energetic furbaby’s head was covered in blood. I kept myself from freaking out and got the other three into their crates so that I could examine her.
Before I could determine the severity of her injury I had to wipe down her fur to remove any blood and identify the location of the cut. I was lucky, there was only one cut, and despite the amount of blood, it was small and it wasn’t gushing. I grabbed the paper towels and applied pressure; after five minutes the bleeding had stopped. Then; because life is what happens while you’re busy making other plans, my princess shook her head. In an instant, my home looked like a CSI crime scene. I ignored the blood spatter, and applied pressure a second time.
Again, once the bleeding stopped, my sweet oversized princess shook her head. My house was covered in blood and it was time to call the vet. After a quick call to let them know I was coming, I had to get something over my dog’s ear to stop her from bleeding. I remembered that when it was raining out and on the rare occasion my grandmother could not find her “rain hat” she’d use a plastic grocery bag. I quickly ran to our bag storage and pulled one out. I tied it around my sweet girl’s head, making sure that her eyes and nose were not covered by the bag. With her new “rain hat” on, we hopped into the car and ran off to the vet.
In addition to a 79lb German Shepherd wearing a plastic bag on her head, the situation was made even more comical thanks to my attire. You see, it was about quarter to ten in the morning and I was in my full miscarriage uniform: sweatpants, hoodie, socks, slippers, no bra, and thoroughly unkempt hair, and thanks to the situation, I had some tasteful blood spatter to complete the ensemble. Yup, I was totally stylin!
When I got home I remembered that I had a lunch date that afternoon. There was no way that lunch date was going to happen, so I called my relative and left a message on her answering machine explaining what had happened. I figured she’d be home and maybe was doing something that wouldn’t let her get to the phone. It was an hour before our lunch date and since it takes about 40 minutes for her to make it to my house, I figured she’d get the message and call me when she did.
I proceeded to spend the next hour spraying our walls, cabinets, and doors with disinfectant and scrubbing the blood off of everything. About an hour after I had made the call, there was a knock at my door. She hadn’t gotten the message and was expecting to go to lunch. “Okay; no problem,” I thought. I’ll have to tell her what happened, and say that we can go to lunch as soon as I finish with cleaning the blood off the walls and change clothes.
“We’ve had a slight emergency,” I explained. “Everyone is okay, Princess is at the Vet’s, they’re taking care of her, and there’s some blood that I’m still cleaning up.” Well, her jaw hit the floor. She didn’t know what to do or say. She had brought up a few snacks for my husband, dropped those on the counter. She then told me she thought I needed to be alone and rest, and got in her car to go home. She left swiftly, despite my assurance that I did not need rest, I only needed to get the blood off the walls. She was not interested in hearing what I had to say. So, with me in the middle of a miscarriage, with blood all over my walls, this dear old relative of mine decided to turn around and go home, leaving me to deal with everything by myself.
I’m aware of this person’s limitations; I just figured that for once in her life, she might be able to put someone else’s needs ahead of her own. But I guess if she can’t grab a rag and help a woman in the middle of a miscarriage scrub blood off walls, she’s pretty much committed to her role as the center of her own universe. I can’t control other people’s behavior, the only thing I have control over is my reaction. I’m working on this!
So, since she didn’t offer to help or do anything other than ditch me, I was shocked when she called that evening to see how I was doing. I am gifted with sarcasm and snarky humor, and I try to keep it in check. However sometimes, I just can’t help myself. When she asked how I was doing; I told her how shocked I was that she cared, as she obviously didn’t seem to care at the time. She was shocked by my boldness, but I was totally out of tact at that moment, having been left to clean up the blood and retrieve my Princess from the vet by myself.
I was further shocked when she told me that she only did what she’d want someone to do for her. Then, she went so far as to say she had no idea I’d want her help cleaning up because I didn’t ask. Obviously the repeated statement, “No, I don’t need to rest, I need to clean this up” did not let her know how important it was to me to get the blood cleaned up. Honestly if seeing me in blood covered clothing with my walls splattered with blood and my home looking like a scene from a CSI drama isn’t enough, I don’t think words would have done anymore.