Uh-oh, the short version being that just before the eclipse I fell off the porch in a chair, spent a most uncomfortable night at Wall, Monday with help from our neighbors packed up and decamped to Kaiser Vallejo where that night was spent in hospital under observation for broken ribs,  scapula and pneumothorax then was able to go home Tuesday to begin a recovery predicted to be lengthy. Having never been in a hospital before this account may be a little granular but details, if so desired, follow…

Minutes after taking the photo below I turned slightly to see if the eclipsing moon had

appeared above the clouds and was eclipsed myself when the chair and I went backwards off the porch into the weedy depths four feet below [we should have been more observant of the chair leg at lunch]. At least we went over together to land me on a planar surface, utterly

whacking out my wind. I didn’t pass out but after an unknown amount of time of screaming immobility managed to roll over and crawl through the cheat up to the steps, up the steps

and into the house where L. somehow managed to get the sweatshirt off me and me onto the couch for an again unknown amount of time. Later, though I have no memory of this, she inserted me into an office chair and rolled it the length of the house to the bed where

I drifted between pain, sleep and wondering WTF/What Could Be Done.  The best outcome seemed to be to try to make it to Kaiser Vallejo* even though that would involve packing up

a lot of stuff…food, work, computers, notes. Fuck. Dogs too, of course. Linda slept not at all, same worries, same conclusion and so around six we began slowly putting things together to go…me mostly directing the effort as any movement was excruciating.  Near eight, utterly overwhelmed [we’d called for help earlier but the help we called had gone to California] I reached our nearest neighbors at Planet X, who SAVED us.  John and Rachel both came over, finished packing the house as L. got her studio stuff together, moved trucks and loaded it all

[including me] into the Taco from the porch.  L. locked up and we were just past Indian Rock

before realizing we’d left the leashes so had to backtrack, making our final escape at 10:30 on an otherwise exquisite day. A bummer to leave but nonstop from the gate through Gerlach-

Empire-Nixon-Wadsworth and west on 80 until gas in Verdi [unexpectedly chaotic but I never

exited the vehicle], then Donner and,

3:12, the ER at Kaiser Vallejo. L. dropped me, took the dogs to Benicia and came right back for three hours’ wait to see the doctor, then all the tests, CT, X-rays etc. until eventual diagnosis

came in around nine as five cracked ribs and a scapula. The recommendation was I be admitted for 24 to 48 hours’ observation of possible pneumothorax as soon as a bed could be readied in the appropriate ward. By that time, having been up all night, driven all day and barely eaten, we were both faint from hunger so while waiting one of the nurses brought us a sampling of the

local cuisine, most welcome though it didn’t bode well for what might be found upstairs and eventually, things dragging on later and later, Linda staggered home to feed the unfed dogs, leaving me to be installed around midnight in a room to myself where after a seemingly endless orientation I slept maybe an hour before someone was in to check on me, same same all night but sufficiently medicated [I guess] that if not exactly feeling no pain I didn’t feel utterly

tormented. Come morning the shift changed and I had my own personal RN intern, Starshita, who kept track of me through various additional testings [at 8:30 the surgeon wandered in wondering if there’d been another x-ray; there hadn’t and I never saw her again], a bit of breakfast, lots of noodling around on my phone, a meeting with the PT who walked me around

the ward, breathing painfully deeply, and later Linda returned just as I was belatedly wheeled down to x-ray.  That done we hung out in the room overseen by the benevolent Star**

until word came through that the unseen surgeon had reviewed the second set of images and, seeing no sign of deterioration [au contraire!], we could go home!  Fifteen hours instead of twenty-four or forty-eight…milagro!

Of course going home, the discharge, took several hours, leaving Linda ample time to exchange the Mini [too low for me to get into] for the Taco, make it back and after being delayed by a

protracted wait in the pharmacy nonetheless meet Star and I, wheelchaired, at the curb

outside…by 3:30, a consummation both unexpected and devoutly to be wished, it was

Home at Last.  Tentatively.

Benicia in June…haven’t been this side of the hill this time of year in more than thirty-five years.

Didn’t expect to be, either, but now, a week into it, things are going well; no worries.

*there were Considerations, including but not limited to what to do with the animals if they had to be left in a hospital parking lot for hours, no Kaiser [our insurer] in Nevada, what if it was more serious and Linda [and the animals] were stranded outside said hospital for not hours but days, etc…

**there was also some sort of lunch involved, most welcome if not particularly memorable.