The Non-Emergency Emerges

This morning in the bathroom, I screamed. Loudly.

My husband came running (as all good husbands should).

"What? WHAT?" H demanded.

"LOOK!" I screamed. I was passing blood.

"Um," says H. He pauses a moment, scratching the back of his left leg with his right foot. Taking a step (or two) back and switching Spunketta (did I mention Spunketta was in his arms?) to his other hip.

"Um. But that's okay, right?"

I blinked.

"Didn't the doctor say this would happen?"

I blinked again.

"There's nothing going on, right? I mean... isn't this normal?"

H stayed close enough to hear and be heard by me, but continued to inch away. And waited for me to come to a revelation.

I was having my period.

My PERIOD. Good god, what was that?

"Oh," I said, embarassed. INCREDIBLY embarrassed. I stammered a bit, and H nodded sympathetically.

I have been so used to being scared or saddened by bleeding that I had forgotten (FORGOTTEN) that for some people, it's a perfectly normal thing.

Heh. Whoops.