Saturday, February 18, 2012

The Afternoons after - 45 Hrs Ago; Now, Nakita and I stay in seperate rooms.

St James City, Pine Island, Florida.

Day One: It feels like an instant bruise and tastes like iron; warm iron liquid and burnt metal rushing to the surface, bathing me in shock.  I am hot. My face is swelling. 
The worst thing you could possibly do is look in the mirror.
"Andrea, dear, look at me," Jennifer comes to my side, but I can't remember her in the room.
I pull my hands away and cup the blood pooling into my palms.
I hear someone else shout out, "What happened?!"
I'm lead by my elbow, "Here, use this," a white towel is thrust against my mouth and instantly turns red.
"What happened,"   I hear Dad following us into the bathroom.
"Come over here, sit down." I'm guided to the toilet, not before I realize the seat is up and I knock it down with my toe.
"Let me see," Jennifer pulls the towel away.  "Oh dear, let me get some ice."
"Now Andrea, Andrea. Look at me.  Now, you're going to be in shock, its okay..." My father, Capt John, the Boy Scout and "Safety First" philosopher takes charge... 
What just happened? I leaned in, petting the top of her head, "You're so beautiful, beauti --- (chomp).

Day Three, Today: I reinact the scene: I was saying beautiful, that's why she only got the lower lip.  And ten stitches later, my holiday takes on a new romance - one with lots of sleep, little sun and a lower lip that looks like it's suffering from the plague or a severe case of herpes.  Children fear me, adults shift their stance and stare in horror as my senior adults adjust their glaucoma glasses and say, “Oh dear Lord child!”
I missed Day Two in Florida, sleeping off the initial anti-biotic horse pills, Tylenol 3 and Ativan.  Now Day Three, I’m perched underneath a Tiki hut catching up on the world I have missed.

Let’s all pray for minimal scarring shall we. My heart can’t take such a loss.  
{Written by: Andrea Curire}

No comments:

Post a Comment

Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.