Nightmare Number 2

by Betty

’Twas early and the morning was full of the promise of a good day. The sky was blue with only one white fluffy cloud drifting by. The sun was bright. A gentle breeze occasionally passed over.

I opened the back door to let the dogs out — eager to go they were. Suddenly the bright day turned gray, then black.

How much later I know not.  There I lay head on the concrete, feet inside on the kitchen floor.  Two anxious dogs whimpered nearby, stopping only to lick my face and arms.  I lifted my head to survey the space, my head weighed 2 tons and complained like something a sledge hammer was hitting.  Leaning on a door frame, I crawled inside, made my way to cold water and bed.  Later, I looked my head over—a tennis ball size bump on the back of my head and a bruise across my forehead.  Long bangs covered the damage.  I survived.

The moral of the event is do not walk into an open door!  It hurts and it doesn’t look good.

One response to “Nightmare Number 2

  1. Being one-legged, I know well what your falls are like. But I have a companion (human as well as canine) to help me when I fall. You do not. I worry about you, Betty. Take good care. I would so miss your writing (and much, much else) if anything untoward happened to you!


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