I'd been close; I'm pretty squeamish around blood, especially when it involves puncturing or piercing the skin in some way. I'd had my vision go dark around the edges, and the really loud cicadas buzz in my ears, but I always managed to hang onto consciousness.
Tonight, bae decided he was going to make french fries, which he's done before, but he knicked himself with the peeler and came to ask me to help him apply a bandaid.
I had the bandaid opened up, stuck to my finger, anti-biotic ointment on my other finger ready to apply
just kinda stopped
and then I was dreaming; I was kinda plotting out what I was going to say on this application for foodcorps.com, which is what I had been doing immediately prior. And then I was waking up, and bae was leaning over me at a weird angle, and I was in the bathroom floor. That's weird; why was I sleeping there? My head feels like I knocked it on something, huh.
Then the frantic look of worry in his eyes-- "Are you okay? I thought you were in shock!"
"What? What happened?"
"You passed out, you fell with no resistance!"
I still had the bandaid on my finger, so I manage to fumble it onto him and sit up against the wall.
Overall, it was an interesting experience. Now I know I wasn't BSing all those phlebotomists all these years!