Today I saw a two child pile up. When all that could be heard was wailing, I rushed to the scene and picked up a little two year old. Carrying her over to the bench, I asked her what was hurting. In reply, she threw her bloody hand onto mine.
Today a child bled on me. The dangers of blood born pathogens are pounded into you since you were in preschool: you could get AIDS. Or Hepatitis B. Or any number of other horrible diseases.
After brushing off the excess blood from my palm, I led the girl inside to clean her up. Ten minutes and a new bandaid later, and she was happy as could be. Yet all I could do was worry. What had I been exposed to? Given that she's only two years old, it couldn't be anything much, could it? The blood didn't get into any open wounds, which is a definite plus, and I washed it off within minutes.
Sometimes Obsessive Compulsive Disorder is a curse.