Wednesday, September 21, 2005, 18:32
What are the Chances?
"Oh, sh*t," I said.
Dime-sized drops of blood were raining out of my nose, spattering into the bathroom sink, splashing the countertop.
I grabbed for a tissue.
Instantly soaked.
I grabbed for another tissue.
Instantly soaked.
"Don't panic," I said to myself. "Don't panic. Blood always looks like more than what it really is."
For many years, I have been using a nasal spray to help control allergy symptoms. This morning I was in too much of a hurry and grabbed the bottle with wet hands. My hand slipped on the spray bottle -- and I must have gouged a blood vessel up in my nose.
For 15 minutes, dime-sized drops of blood continued to rain out of my nose and also ran down the back of my throat. A couple of times, I felt like I was choking.
After 20 minutes, the flow had slowed down enough so that when I reached for another tissue, instead of a dozen drops pattering into the sink, only three or four dripped out of my nose.
After an hour, the flow had slowed down enough so that I could take the tissue away from my nose for a few minutes at a time.
After an hour and a half, the bleeding had slowed down enough so that I didn't need to hold a tissue to my nose.
Just to be on the safe side, I gently dabbed a cotton swab with antibiotic ointment on injured spot inside my nose. I don't need *that* kind of an infection to complicate things.
"I guess I can go out and feed the horses now," I said to my Shetland Sheepdog, Pixie.
As soon as I walked outside, I felt weak and light-headed. I thought about it for a little bit and decided that it was a reaction to coming down off the adrenalin rush rather than from blood loss (I hope).
That's one thing about having horses and dogs and barn cats that need to be taken care of. You've got to get out and do it -- no matter how you feel.
The mishap with the nasal spray happened at a little before 8 o'clock this morning. At 1:30 p.m., my nose is still bleeding a little bit.
I ought to probably spend the rest of the afternoon writing over and over and over: "I will not use the nasal spray with wet hands. I will not use the nasal spray with wet hands. I will not use the nasal spray with wet hands."
LeAnn R. Ralph
Monday, September 19, 2005, 16:54
Spots of Color
The five-leaved ivy is starting to turn scarlet. It is quite breathtaking, really, bright red leaves winding their way through the tall grass at the end of our hayfield and in the old pasture to the south of the hayfield, climbing the line fence at the end of the hayfield, climbing trees: pine trees on the neighbor's land to the west and box elders and elm trees in the old pasture.
When the five-leaved ivy climbs pine trees and winds itself around them and then turns scarlet, the pines look like Christmas trees with lovely red garland.
The wild purple and white asters are starting to bloom, too -- a sure sign of fall. The asters are not as glorious this year, though, because it has been so dry. Like the five-leaved ivy, they also provide early spots of color in the countryside -- frothy white and lacy purple. It won't be long before the trees start turning, but I'm wondering if we will have much color this year, seeing as it has been so hot and dry for most of the summer.
And I have also noticed the silence of winter approaching. The barn swallows have left. So have the cliff swallows and the tree swallows. And the hummingbirds. I don't hear any robins, either, or bluebirds or meadowlarks. Usually I will hear robins and bluebirds and meadowlarks for a quite a while in the fall. Perhaps they have left to find a different place where water is more readily available to them.
It seems so quiet outside without the happy chatter of the barn swallows and cliff swallows and tree swallows and the songs of the robins and the twittering of the bluebirds and the meadowlark serenades. The other night we did hear a whippoorwill, but I suppose it won't be long before they are gone, too.
The most common bird that I am hearing now are the crows visiting the small cornfield our neighbor planted north of our hayfield. I suppose the crows are cawing during the summer, too, but since they have to compete with the other birds, they probably have a harder time making themselves heard.
And the other day, I heard geese flying overhead in formation. It seems too early for geese to be migrating. I'm not *ready* for the geese to be migrating!
LeAnn R. Ralph
Nightshade Update: Nightshade continues to improve and seems more like her old self. She is eating everything in sight. I suppose if I didn't eat hardly anything for a week, I would be hungry, too. And she is getting around much better, as well. Randy is happy to have his little black kitty-cat back again.