I have not slept much in the last 24 hours. My dad is in the hospital and he has a 50-50 chance of making it. I stayed with him last night. For some reason I thought about Cyrano de Bergerac and his duel with death.
In this type of duel, there are no "seconds." There are no champions and no substitutions. You are called to the strip and there are no "byes."
My dad would not think of flashing blades in this last fight. I am sure of that. He would think of blazing six guns in a dusty Western street. My Dad loves Louis L'Amour. He read other more relevant things, but the old West is where his heart lies.
My journal is supposed to be about fencing. References to flashing blades are not enough to make this entry a part of it. However sometimes you cannot separate fencing from life...or from death. One effects the other.
I am getting a little tired of bad things happening. I start my new job Monday. What am I supposed to do? Am I to walk in and ask for time off?
The nurse sent me home to sleep, but I am not having any luck there. Perhaps I will try again.