Listen, life - I'd rather have the lemonade

I have written a blog post at least once a day for the last 17 days, until yesterday.  When I got home from work I decided that a professional pedicure would be lovely - I've never had one!  It was not as pleasant an experience as I'd hoped or expected, for a couple of reasons. 

First, the people working there speak in their native language and do so in the form of screams and rapid arm gestures.  I noticed several people were actually scared by this behavior and I was among those similarly affected.  They would scream at you and jam a pointed finger to where you should be, and then yell if you didn't get there fast enough.  The pedicure itself was nice, but halfway through the process, I received a call from home.

"Get the fuck home - Daddy just fell off the ladder in the foyer," and then the line went dead.  I sat there, crying, shaking, furiously punching numbers on my phone and no one answered.  I raced home to find that my husband was bruised, bloody, gashed and in need of transport to the hospital. 

Off we went.

The hospital staff did an excellent job of taking care of my husband and he was very lucky.  Another man was transported to the hospital following a fall last night, but he was not so lucky.  His back was broken and he will never walk again. 

As far as how I handled the incident with regard to my mental illnesses; I think I did VERY well.  Of course I was initially shocked, but who wouldn't be?  I felt the panic but did not lose my mind.  My chest hurt but I did not start tapping myself on the head.  I did not engage in self harm. 

Life is such a wild ride.  We do the best we can and ask for help when necessary.  Now, about that glass of lemonade...