Ok so you got me, I can't stand blood. Well more specifically my own blood. There's just something about it that makes my skin crawl. I can only just about donate blood. Watching it shoot down the tube (because sorry you just can't look away) into the baggies beneath the bed makes me so light headed I've nearly fainted a couple of times. The nurses thought I was ill, no just a big pansy.
Other peoples blood is not an issue, Kat and Alex have bled on me often enough to know that. and with a mother who is a nurse you just kind of get used to it I suppose.
But still nosebleeds are like my own personal hell. I'm bleeding, I can smell it and worse yet I can taste it as it trys to trickle down the back of throat.
Even once you spit it out it doesn't get better because then you have to look at it, bright red against the white of the sink. And trust me you don't get any flatmate brownie points for besplattering the bathroom in red.
Kishan seemed to find it quite funny though when I finally made my way to the kithchen to get a drink with a huge wad of paper up my nose.
'Tip your head back!' he said. Thankfully Ella chose that moment to appear coming to check up on me.
'Er no just no'
Thank goodness some one has got some sense around here I can tell you. Seeing Ella also made me realise something else. Once again we were all in our pants. Well except Ella who had joggers on.
Seems me and Kishan have become victims to 'flat chic' in the evenings. Trousers are obviously just over done.
Urgh I need more tissue....
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