Blood and Water -- Naturally

There's a saying that blood's thicker than water. I don't know if it actually is thicker, but I had an experience lately that made me think about it.

First, if you don't like blood, don't read this.

Second, I apologize in advance to the other party in this blog post. I hope she can forgive me for talking about something that is very personal, and not generally talked about in public. If she reads it and doesn't like it, I might take it down. But I believe the point will come clear, and perhaps she will not be mad.

Awhile ago I was visiting a sister of mine. (She's my blood. We used to tease her that her legs were painted on because she used to ask us to go get water for her when she was thirsty, instead of getting her water for herself:::Blood. Water. Blood was thicker, so we always ended up getting her water for her, even if sometimes it was with some grumbling.)

I was in the middle of my period. Sometimes, accidents happen, and things get bled on. I bled on her sheets. It's the kind of thing that if it has to happen away from home, I suppose it's best to have it happen at a sister's house, because hopefully, she's understanding, and it's slightly less embarrassing to go tell her, "Hey! I'm trying to take care of this problem, but we need to do laundry. Now." than it is to tell a stranger or an acquaintance.

I woke up and rolled over and realized what had happened and inwardly groaned. Great! How embarrassing. I went to tell her what had happened. She was very understanding and wasn't mad at all or impatient. I was really grateful, as I felt a little silly. I told her as much, and she told me a story I had completely forgotten about.

A long time ago, when I was a pretty young teenager, we went to visit somebody. I want to say Aunt M was part of it, but I don't remember that for sure. I do remember I had recently been through puberty, and I was having a rough go of it. (Most people do, so I don't really feel too sorry for myself about it.) My sister was sitting on my lap. My lap was bigger than her lap, and there weren't enough seats, and I was not yet old enough to care about having no leg circulation. She sat on my lap and I put my arms around her, and we chatted with our relatives (or whoever it was) for awhile. It was summertime, because I was wearing shorts.

When she stood up, I realized that she had bled through her clothes onto my lap, and there was a rusty stain on the fabric of my shorts. She must have been perched at the end of my lap, because even though my shorts were pretty long, it was close to the hemline. I remember thinking, "Oh no. How embarrassing for her!" and I wanted to let her know that she needed to change her clothes, but I didn't want to make a big deal out of it and embarrass her any more than was absolutely necessary. Mentioning it in front of all our relatives (probably not everybody in the room was female, and it would have greatly mortified me to point it out in mixed company) would have been really rude, I felt, and embarrassed her.

It never occurred to me to get mad or cause a scene. I was just anxious for her to get full understanding of the situation so she could take steps accordingly. So when she stood up, I tugged on her hand to get her attention, pointed to the stain to let her know what had happened, and then rolled the hem of my shorts up in a little cuff in order to cover the stain. It wasn't a natural place for a bloodstain to be, and I didn't want anyone else to notice. For once in my life, I believe I actually acted nonchalant!

She said she was so grateful that I didn't make a big deal of it. I guess I could have squealed and been like, "Eeeew, she bled on me!" and made a fuss. But really...I just rationalized it: Everybody has things about their bodies they can't control. She couldn't control that, and besides, it's not like any damage was done, so I just went about my day and changed my shorts later.

She told me this story as she put hydrogen peroxide on the stain I had just made, and kind of made the point that I could bleed on anything I wanted, because she was really grateful that I hadn't freaked out on that day. It made me think. To me, it wasn't a big deal at all, but to her, she was grateful to be spared mortification.

We need both blood and water. We need people--our "blood"--to take care of us and get us out of sticky wickets, and we need water to get rid of the residue. When we have waterworks, it's our blood who take care of us. When we bleed, it's sometimes the water of acceptance -- which sometimes we do not offer freely enough to our blood -- that we need to flow around us and clean us up.

So, my dear sister, blood and water go together -- naturally. And so next time you ask me for a glass of water, I'll get it for you without complaining. Because I'm your sister -- your blood. And that's just one of the things sisters do for each other.