…there was a woman sleeping quite soundly in her cozy bed. That woman was awoken at 2:30 am by her darling husband. He spoke in a loud frantic whisper, “I NEED YOUR HELP.” She bounded out of bed, knowing something was wrong…very wrong. As she descended the stairs behind her husband, she noticed he was holding a large red towel on his head. Her brain slowly comprehended that “we don’t have red towels,” and in the next moment, as they emerged into the light of the living room, her eyes took in the scene waiting for her there. Blood everywhere…on the carpet, pooled in a leftover dish on a tray, and in sticky footprints on the hardwood floor. Drips that trailed through the house, from the living room, through the dining room, and into the kitchen, where more red pools stagnated in the dirty bowls in the sink.
HOUSTON….WE HAVE A PROBLEM.
So my dear man had what can only be described as a freak accident…he tripped and lost his balance (and no, he hadn’t been drinking…at least that would’ve made for a much more exciting story!) and fell, hitting his head on our TV cabinet. He wound up with a four and a half inch cut running from the top/back of his head to the front. I called 911, and wasn’t at all comforted when the very calm dispatcher said, “He will likely lose consciousness soon, so if he does, don’t panic. Just turn him on his side.” Yeah, okay. Don’t panic. TOO LATE! The ambulance arrived hours later. Okay, it was only 8 minutes, but it felt like hours. Neighbor ran in the door and saint that she is, helped me clean up all the blood throughout the house while they were prepping Zan for the ride to the hospital. My Mom arrived to sit with my sleeping babes, and my Dad drove me to the ER where Zan’s brother and wife were already waiting.
An ambulance ride, CT scan, 15 staples, and four hours later, we arrived back at home. Zan spent the weekend manufacturing red blood cells. I spent the weekend watching his every move, wrapped in a fog of surreality, and reading Twilight…it was a very bloody weekend. But Monday is here, and he’s off to work, the girls off to school, and I have a weekend of family and meals to prepare for. It’s back to business as usual, but it was a very rude reminder that life can change in the blink of an eye.