My son gets nose bleeds. They started happening when we were living in Colorado. He gets them at least once a month it seems. Yesterday he had two of them. One I knew about, one I did not.
This morning I headed into Andre’s room to pull the comforter up on the bed and pick up his dirty clothes, like I do every morning. This morning I was greeted by a murder scene. Blood everywhere. Bloody tissues all over the floor. Blood stained sheets, pillows, and comforter. Horrible. It’s not his fault. He probably got it in his sleep. But a little heads up would have been nice.
After I stripped his bed to the mattress and started the laundry I looked in his bathroom. If the bedroom is the scene of the crime, then the bathroom is where he cut up the body. Horrible. I’ve been in there scrubbing that bathroom on my hands and knees for over an hour.
If you need someone to clean up a crime scene… I’m your girl. *smdh*
I don’t mind cleaning it up so much as I mind finding the mess. You couldn’t warn me this morning when you were complaining about how tired and drained you were. Of course you’re drained, you look to have dropped a half a pint of blood last night.
I have to remind myself that it is not his fault. That he can’t control when he gets them. But I’m squeamish. I can’t handle blood and vomit. I actually don’t know which is worse. So, just a little warning would have been appreciated.
Okay, I’m done complaining… I’m off to put his pillows in the dryer. BFN!