I was relieved when the hospital emergency person was willing to give me information on Anatole’s state over the phone, since I had identified myself as a friend. I had kind of thought that one needed to be family to be told that kind of information. But apparently that was no longer the case.
And I was heartened with what he told me. Evidently there was no sign of a heart attack or stroke. Though they couldn’t rule out a minor stroke, they believed it had been the fall, hitting his head on the table that had knocked him out. They were going to keep him under observation for a day or two.
When I hung up, I put my face in my hands and gave a brief sob of relief, then I decided to celebrate by having a shower downstairs—after cleaning up the blood in the kitchen. It was with a sense of rel
