It was last Tuesday night, just an ordinary night. The parking lot was well lit, but the night itself was dark and cloudy. Jon and I were walking back to our car, The way was downhill, not steeply, but you could tell it was trending down rather than up.

   We were, I think, within an arm’s length from the car when I suddenly realized I was lying down, face on the pavement. There was no in between that I can recall. I was walking, then I was down. I scrambled up, brushing myself off when I heard Jon say, “Dad, your face is bleeding.” And so it was.

   We rushed to the Emergency Room, where we ending up staying the night while they did all sorts of pokes and prods, and asking all sorts of questions. I didn’t have many answers, but they suggested I stay over anyway.

   And they allowed me to leave by five in the afternoon. Complete with 20 pages of discharge information, and a lengthy list of instruction and appointments to tend to, starting Monday, two days hence. I have been sleeping a lot in the meantime.

   I would post a photo, but I don’t believe the ICC allows such horrendous auxiliary material to be posted on blogs. I could be wrong about that. In any case, in the photos I’ve had taken of me the past few days, I looked ten times worse than I actually felt at the time. I do look as though I had a hand-to-hand fist fight with a fifteen foot wall. And lost.

   It will be a while before I recover from all this. I can’t imagine otherwise, and there are too many appointments to follow up with, starting next Monday. Don’t go anywhere, if you can help it. I’ll be back with the blog as soon as I can.