Angel of Mercy
Quick story here. My apologies in advance for the lack of chuckles.

My Mum is quite literately terrified of blood of any kind so growing up as a rambunctious (and very clumsy) sproglette I learned at an early age not weep red coloured goo where Mum could see lest I end up picking her off the floor (not an easy task as she is not a small woman by any stretch).

On one fine summer day my brother and I were playing doubles tennis when, after doing my famous Andre Agassi after Thalidomide act, I managed to trip, fall and stumble my way into said brother's backhand, causing an enormous gash above my left eye. Blood was pouring down my face, blinding me in one eye and causing my brother to turn white as sheet and start gagging. As we as a family had just recently move to the US and knew next to nobody we were forced to call Mum, knowing her reaction was not going to be pleasant. 5 minutes later after a squeal of red-hot brakes and tyre smoke came Mum. Running, cloth and God's own bottle of peroxide in hand, hair net and housecoat flapping for all and sundry to see. Not a pleasant sight to anyone but me. Somehow she managed to clean me up enough so I could see then quite literally carried her 15 stone son to the car and steer with her knees whilst clamping a hand over a weeping and woozy child and shifting with the other, all time while I was pouring blood over me, her and the car. To this day I have never figured out how she did it. Got to spend the night in A&E due to a magnificent concussion and 17 stitches.

She waited until the Docs had stitched me up before passing out cold on the A&E floor.

Thanks Mum.
( venezuelan beaver cheese is mortally afraid of spoons, Thu 18 Feb 2010, 2:10, Reply)