The sight of blood…

I can’t stress how much i dislike the sight of blood. I don’t get grossed out by blood, i don’t find it any more disgusting that your average person does, at least not on a conscious level, but somewhere deep down in my psyche something really hates the sight of it.

When i was in the 6th grade we got taken on a school trip to a slaughter house. The reasoning was; as part of our religious studies we were being taught the correct (halal) way to slaughter a sheep. So in front of 26 students they slit the throat of a sheep for us. I think i was the only one who couldn’t deal with this, everyone else was cheering in that way that boys do when they are doing something cool, i just backed away as the world started to close in on me and my brain started to feel like it was contracting, doubled over trying not to pass out. I stopped eating red meat for a year after that.

I don’t know what it is, it’s not a phobia, personally I don’t think blood bothers me that much, but something in my head just seems to go “Fuck! It’s that red stuff. Let’s make him feel horrible!” I walked out of dissections in school because i felt ill, and whenever i give blood samples for tests i have to wait 15 to 20 minutes before i can stand up. When i was getting my jabs before going on holiday i was fine with the injections, it was when the nurse was looking for the place I’d been injected so she could put a plaster on it, but couldn’t, after i’d calmly said : “It’s there where the blood is coming out” that i felt queesy.

If i cut myself i can deal with it, i sawed into my finger with a steak knife while opening some packaging a while ago, ran about looking for a plaster, couldn’t find one, and ended up using a cotton bud and some electrical tape. Once the crisis was averted, i blacked out and woke up on my kitchen floor though.

Anyway, the reason I brought this up was that yesterday, while walking to the bus stop we saw a pigeon fly full speed into the glass of the bus stop, and fall to the ground. I burst out laughing,as i thought it was quite comical. The pigeon got up took a couple of tentative steps and fell over. It stopped moving, after a minute or so, as it hadn’t got up again, we thought it might be a good idea to check it was okay, as it hadn’t moved, and we were worried that some neds might kick it about.

I walked up to the pigeon to see what was up with it. It turned out that it had hit the bus stop much harder than we’d thought as it was no longer breathing and there was a little pool of blood by it’s head. I walked away and told Annabel that it was dead, then i remembered that i don’t like blood. The world started to close in on me and i had to sit down.

It’s almost as if remembering that i don’t like the sight of blood triggered the reaction. I get the same thing with heights, i’ll climb up, remember i’m afraid of heights, and just freeze. It’s messed up.

I feel a bit guilty for laughing at the pigeon as it essentially killed it’s self… Thats not why I’m posting this though, I just felt a need to express this.

Posted by Wordmobi

Author: Omar

Omar is the main/only contributor to He is a Computer Programmer based in Glasgow Scotland.

3 thoughts on “The sight of blood…”

  1. I never had you down as someone who was scared of blood – it’s seems contrary to your normal, level-headed self.

    But then, being exposed to a slaughterhouse at a young age can’t be at all healthy.

  2. I’m not scared of it. It’s not a conscious fear or anything it’s just that seeing it makes me dizzy, sometimes a few minutes after I see it.

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