Bloody Hell

That's what I might have titled the press release I was reading. "Bloody Hell."

Though, I imagine that's not what the writer had intended.

Our schools, it explained, would be getting medical kits and specialized training to stop a hemorrhage, thanks in part to seized drug money and rampant gun violence.

Not that it strung any of those words together in that order, either.

That's just how I read between the lines as the missive came through the ether into my morning news alerts.

It was a few days late, but it turns out May 23rd was second annual National Stop The Bleed Day, one of many toss-spaghetti-against-the-wall marketing techniques used by businesses and organizations to bring awareness to superfluous and serious causes alike.

You know ... such as the increasingly likely possibility that our children will bleed to death from a sucking chest wound at school (or witness someone bleed to death) because we, as a society, won't do anything about guns.

But since we can't just do nothing, we'll spend a small amount of resources to get out schools peripherally prepared for carnage.

My husband tried to calm me as I highlighted the bullet points of this "grassroots effort" by various government agencies to stop an unnecessary killer in our community: bleeding out.

The news report didn't specifically mention the type of bleeding this particular initiative was meant to alleviate, although four out of five random Google searches pointed to maternal hemorrhage and gunshot wounds in the medical tally sheet of the leading causes of preventable blood loss deaths.

"Now, honey .... when you write about this, try to stick to the preparedness part," said my husband as he watched my eyes flash while I tried to stammer out a framework of thoughts.

"You and I may think it's a dumb idea born out of an unholy marriage between Department of Defense overstock and the very stable marketing genius behind Homeland Security, but other people will say 'there's no harm in being prepared.'

"Also ... we talking about a budget of what? Six hundred bucks?"

He looks over my shoulder at the catalog I downloaded.

"I mean ... look it says right here that a group of surgeons and EMT organizations are supporting this initiative.

"Maybe make a case for more access to Narcan training, or expanding drug education in that same preparedness lecture -- strike that, I mean essay -- you've got churning around in your head."

He makes valid points: Basic first-aid experience is something everyone should have. From Heimlich maneuver posters to portable defibrillators, the average citizen becomes a citizen savior.  The same could be true of this, especially since we don't exactly know how many Las Vegas-style mass shootings or Boston Marathon-type bombings will be in our future.

Now that we've accepted the protection of gun, we must train everyone else to deal with their traumatic aftermath. 

And who knows, in a few years -- when we've made healthcare inaccessible (or illegal) I might feel better about this grassroots effort preparing our kids to heal themselves.