Friday, January 4, 2019
Sometime in the night, when the stillness is only interrupted by her nocturnal creatures, flashes of light, a child vanishing in a red mist, and infant cries, sent Al falling off his chair. As he tumbled to the floor, he hit his head on the stand, sending his reading lamp crashing down. As he fought away the voices and the vanishing child, he placed his hand on his forehead, the warm blood covered his cupped hand.
Startled by the noise, Gracie was up the stairs and kneeling over him. “Dear God,” she said, “What happened? Did you have one of your nightmares?” With his hand on his forehead Gracie went to the bathroom and brought a wet cloth. She pulled his hand away placing the cool wet cloth to his head. After a minute she said, “Better let me take a look, you might need a couple of stitches.” Gently moving Al’s hand Gracie said, “I think I should call Doc Sam. You ought to have some stitches” “No Gracie,” Al said, “After it stops bleeding just put a couple of butterfly bandages on it. I’m not going to the doctor.”
By daylight they had finished a pot of coffee. Gracie was trying to convince Al to go downstate and see a doctor. She had told him that the general practice doctor wouldn’t be able to help him. Near dawn he agreed that if things didn’t get better, he would travel downstate and see a specialist. She tried to pin him down to a specific date when he would call and make an appointment. She’d have to be content with his word that if things didn’t get better, he would make an appointment.