Yesterday, at 1 a.m. my husband took another tumble down the stairs. I was seated at my desk when he came flying down.

This time I saw him as he flew and landed on his head.  He had a seizure upon landing.

I immediately dialed 911, told him not to move, covered him with a blanket–he didn’t have a stitch of clothing on–I think he was heading for the shower and fell backwards down the steps. I managed to get his undies on him without moving him. Wasn’t too difficult since he’d broken the metal gate and was lying on it.

He has a brain bleed and some rib fractures, he looks like crap, and I am well on my way around the bend. The doctor assures me he will improve and we are looking at rehab again too. (sigh)

I’d give my eyeteeth to be able to move into a single floor home with two master suites. His and hers. Otherwise…well, I keep dreaming of a lottery win so I can just disappear.