I fell today, on a walk. It wasn't raining when I left the house, but a steady rain accompanied me as soon as I got going so I decided to cut it short, thirty minutes instead of forty-five. The road back to my house is steep. In retrospect I should have taken a different route. I debated taking my walking shoes off, but decided to trust them. I lost my footing about thirty seconds later. Skinned the hell out of my knee.
It bled. All the way back to my house blood and rain mixed in rivulets down my leg. I laughed at my situation (who falls on a walk?) but as soon as I got to the house the adrenaline that propelled me there exited my system and I got woozy - saw stars. First sat in a chair, then laid on the carpet. Still, it bled.
When I was finally coherent enough to move, I was surprised it was still bleeding. I've never had a cut bleed for more that a half hour. It bled while I changed the laundry. It bled while I had a whiskey to beat back the pain. It bled while I read a book. It bled while I took an hour and a half nap on the couch; it stained the couch. It was still bleeding while I finished the book. I cringed while I showered to get ready for my Uncle's 70th birthday party.
I catalogue the wounds of the dead - they don't bleed. So I am unfamiliar with live blood. I applied gauze and band-aids because it was still bleeding five hours after the injury. Not profusely, just oozing. And dripping. Must have been pretty deep. Wonder I made it home.
I used baby wipes to absorb the blood. I also finished a body of work that has interrupted my planned summer reading. It was a lot to absorb. Enjoyable, but sometimes when you read you learn something about yourself that precipitates a psychic crisis. But no matter the shock, somehow your soul absorbs, and you continue.
So I continue with new knowledge. Hopefully there will be no more bloodletting. I tread carefully. Trepidatiously. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.