To come home to clean up your partner’s blood in the house makes one think about how odd life is. Not to mention all the “what if” scenarios that run through your head after the fact. I’m sure it doesn’t help that I always tend to think on the negative side of events either…

Remembering the things that happened:
Walking in to see all the pools of blood in the doctors office, with him laying on the table. Watching his head being sewn back up, as he squeezed my hand in pain. Him vomiting, then passing out; then having a seizure and biting his tongue. When he came back around, he said he felt like he had a full nights worth of dreams during that time, but couldn’t remember any of them. Later him saying that when the doctor was sewing him up, that he felt warm and relaxed all of a sudden and just wanted to close his eyes and go to sleep. Worrying about him through the night.