Yesenia wakes me up at around 7 AM. "I'm restless," she says, "I'm going to go take a bath." I run my hand down her back as she gets up, then roll over to fill her side of the bed and grab her pillow and prepare to grab another hour of sleep.
She fumbles around in the bathroom for a minute or so. The cats have their morning energy level taken up by Yesenia walking around, and they bounce back and forth between windows, checking out the wildlife action. They have good reason to be excited - yesterday, there was a flock of turkeys out there. So I think (but don't say) that it would be good if Yesenia would let them outside.
Apparently, she's a little telepathic, because she immediately leaves the bathroom, and I hear her going down, the usual stair-by-stair pattern. Step, step, step, step, step, step. Landing, turn. Step, step, step, tumble, boom, BOOM!
Pause, I'm already up towards the door and I hear her starting to cry. "Ow!" I make sure I don't run down the stairs, myself. She's sitting on the very bottom step, tenderly checking her back.
"What happened, baby?" "I don't know - I think I blacked out for a second. I don't remember missing the step - just next thing I know, I'm sliding down the stairs on my back."
This is the bit that they find alarming a but later in the ER. Yesenia & I both worry that the vagueness of her story has the attending nurses eyeing me with suspicions of spousal abuse. Me, I'm kind of used to it - I've long ago stopped looking for specifics from the woman I love. They can't find any reason for the momentary brainfart and focus instead on the aches and pains.
She's doing better, now. Upstairs, bathing with epsom salts. Never a dull moment at Beadboard Manor.