and there was so much of it this morning, just an hour or so after midnight. my brother and i didn’t freeze, which is good, i suppose, and my dad wasn’t comatose but was conscious, which was even better. the blood was sticky, pooled in a large patch around his head. a quart of blood, maybe, on the floor. streaks around the dining table, left by feet and toes on the ceramic. they looked panicked.
and the smell.
the drive to the hospital was wasn’t smooth, and my brother betrayed a hint of tension when he told me to slow down. i didn’t care, probably my own response to my own tension. the blood on my dad’s face and hair was thick and congealing. it was strange, wiping it off his face.
he was going to be ok, i thought. the doctors confirmed that, mercifully.
and lack of sleep. something i’ll never get used to. another thing i’ll never get used to: having to rush back to work to get a report out.
mother. fuckers.