Low long is long? I have been staring at the ceiling for what seems like hours. How long? I don't have a clue. The ceiling has taken my mind. It's one of those holey plaster board types with water stains. I see cob webs from the corner of my eye but the water stains make me ignore the cob webs. They are not important. It is important to keep focused on the stains. They seemed to tell me that my life depends on my looking at those damned stains. I stare until they start to attack me. I become woozy. They are choking me, draining the life out of me.
"Has he awoke yet?" "No, he's still in coma. It's probably better. With his injuries and the way we have had to pin his head to that board he is better off sleeping. He won't be albe to move his head for at least 6 months." I just gave him another shot of morphine.
for Carry on Tuesdays