The sight of blood

I still need to get my blood drawn regularly, as I am still required to undergo a lot of tests. It feels never-ending, and while I've gotten used to it, I still go on a little bit scared. 

Yesterday's blood draw was quick. The tech found a vein on her first try. But when she pulled out the syringe, there was a bit of pain. After bandaging me up, she told me to apply pressure for three minutes and not to bend my arm. 

As my mother and I were walking outside, I felt a thick wetness on the site. I looked down and saw blood. A lot of it. I panicked. What if the gushing doesn't stop? Mommy calmly said to continue applying pressure. That will stop, she said. 

I remembered my grandfather, who passed away when I was 9. One of the stories my mother always told us was about how he would faint at the sight of blood. I believe I got my squeamishness from him, although another side of me is still sometimes fascinated by gore. 

Anyway, I asked Mommy to tell me more about Lolo Lino's encounters with blood. She told me that one time, in Junquera in Cebu, he saw from their window a neighbor getting hacked. He came crashing down on the floor after that. 

My arm bled again after she told me that story. I had to get a second wad of tissues to press on it. But by the time we got home, the bleeding had stopped. We cleaned the tiny little wound that looked huge for a needle, rebandaged it, and called it a night. 

I fell asleep almost immediately. I didn't faint. I'm still alive.