Chose not to go down the hill for a CT scan of my head. To check for a brain bleed. Too many scans of late. No problematics. Could have been otherwise. An emotional rather than a rational decision.
Surrounded by love. Ruth held me in her lap, holding a towel against my gash. Bled profusely as head wounds do. Mary and David helped me (lifted me) to my feet. Ruth and Mary called my clinic which got me in right away. 10 minutes from home.
Wound cleaned, hair around it clipped. Waited until Anna, a p.a. came in. She did a thorough exam for neurological effects. Head wound = possible brain bleed.
The lidocaine would feel like “stinging bees,” she said. Ha, I thought. I know what they feel like from my beekeeping years. Pretty close, except for one which exceeded expectations. Mary says she, Ruth, and David watched Anna work. At the back of my head and numbed. I waited. No real pain afterward. Later the other parts of my body that hit the tile hard declared themselves. Achy. Some low level pain.
I crawled into bed and went to sleep.
More appreciative now of my Life Alert medallion which would have come to my aid had I been alone.
Old age can be tough. Keep yourself in shape.
Looking forward to three medical intervention free days.
I see Vance trying to rehabilitate Nixon! The deep state took him down. Yeah, right. If by deep state you mean: independent journalism (ironically the Washington Post of yesteryear), the FBI, Congress, and the courts.
Shameless. All of them. Enemies of truth, justice, and the American way. Villains of Superman Comic equivalence.
Quiet summer days. What I want.