29. Scared, calmed, comforted – blessed.*

Nail pierces foot.

Hobble home, bathwater blood red – impression of litres lost.

Scared.

Roger:  “Stitches”.

Nepean Hospital.

Waiting … my head in his lap. Calming.

Feigning sleep …

They won’t wake me to hurt me?

Finally diagnosis:

“That part of the foot can’t be stitched!!”

Heading home, nestled in Roger’s arms – Comforted.

Note:

This is a continuation of yesterdays entry Imaginery bullets, makeshift arrows – real rusted nails. Hopefully the 2 of them can be viewed as self-contained tales of 50 words that complement each other. If not, then perhaps this is my first “fudge”.

Read Full Post »