"You're serious?" *Head Palm*
"I cut myself at work." My husband said over the phone.
"Oh my God! Are you okay?" I asked.
"I'm fine." he said.
Well, he convinced me. My husband is a chef and it comes with the job. He get's burned, cut, he proudly displays them as badges of honor. I get it. Scars are hot.
So when he called me and told me he was fine, I totally believed him. That was a dumb mistake on my part. He get's home and I had forgotten that he told me he'd been cut until I saw his finger condom.
It didn't look that bad so I went ahead and helped him re-bandage it. As soon as the finger condom came off the chaos began. The blood was spurting from his finger in mass quantities. I started to scream and the dachsunds started to bark.
Oh my God! This was not a cut this was a severe injury to his middle finger. I'm not a person that deals well with blood. I get weak in the knees and start to feel faint. So the situation was not good for me but I sucked it up (Not the blood, *ewww*, but my resolve to help him.) and went to work.
So not joking when I say if someone was to spray luminol in are kitchen sink, bathroom sink, and some of the carpet, they would have suspected murder!
"How long has it been bleeding like this?!" I shrieked.
"About six hours."
Six hours? Six hours! No wonder he looked pale!
"You need to go to the hospital!" I mean, duh, right? I can tell you if I had been bleeding for that long from a cut to my finger you bet your sweet booty I'd be in the ER!
He started to laugh at me! How dare he?! I mean all I wanted was for him to not bleed out on our floor!
"You're serious?" he asked me.
After a disgusting couple of minutes we got it bandaged up and I made him sit down, and drink orange juice. That's what they give people after they donate blood, I assumed that was the way to go.
He still didn't want to go.
I begged him to go to the ER. He refused. Needless to say, his male pride was pissing me off. I still have no idea what was going through his brain. Finally, after he had bled through three bandages within ten minutes, he agreed. Long story later, he had to get a 'figure eight' stitch and the doctors but a mesh that bonded with his platelets to get him to stop bleeding.
This gross ordeal got me thinking. If I hadn't intervened with my nagging and orange juice would he have gone to the ER? I love my husband. I mean, I fiercely love him. I don't want him to be hurt and I certainly don't want him to bleed out.
I had a sort of epiphany. When I'm writing in my books about relationships, I want my heroine to be strong and love the hero as much as I love Aaron. Even if I almost had to beat him over the head with something hard to get him to go.
I now have a good handle on how much feeling needs to go in these scenes. I re-wrote a very high stress scene between my characters and I loved it. Thank you to my husband for making me a better writer and FINALLY agreeing to go the ER!
We all get ideas for our writing from life. Has there been a particular real life event that ended up in your book/blog/story telling?