THE VALLEY OF THE WORSE

That's just an illustration:
our living room is not
that bad

     On Sunday morning I was making breakfast, when I heard a heavy thump. Thinking that Chickie overturned something on the table, I yelled at him, but in my heart I already knew, it wasn't him. I ran to the living room, where Roberta sat on the floor, holding hand to her bloodied forehead. She tripped over a wire and fell, hitting her head on a door handle.
     Emergency Room, here we come again!
     As I walked into her room, Roberta lay with her head swaddled in bandages and a cervical collar on her neck.  It took the usual 5-6 hours in the ER for her to be thoroughly examined, poked and prodded. Fortunately, though the wound looked terrible, she had no cranial damage, but still managed to get a spinal fracture. It sounds worse than it is and will heal soon.
   

 My dad fell down in his room, had an intra-cranial bleeding and died in the hospital. More and more I become aware of the possibility that, Roberta might suffer similar fate. Seeing her in a hospital bed with a big wound on her forehead put me in a state of terrible worry. I walked out to get a drink of water and bumped right into my friend, Asale! 

MaMa Asale

     She was there also, because an acquaintance of hers was in trouble. I guess, both of us experienced similar feelings of apprehension, because at once we fell into each other's arms and cried: "Oh, I'm so happy that you are here!" 
     We had a small interlude of comforting each other, and then she was gone. It was enough, though, to remind me: we are not alone in this world. 
     Roberta is at home now. The poor lady has a huge boo-boo on her head, but we both understand: it could've been much, much worse.