A dark bedroom, sprawled across the bed in fitful sleep. A knock on the bedroom door. "I need you, now".
Come conscious with a blast of adrenalin, "I'll be right there".
Toss aside the tangled cover, damndamn shediedshedied damn as I find clothes enough to let me stagger down the hall. She's hadn't died while I struggled to sleep..... She was half on and half off the couch, hospital bed abandoned for some reason. Her husband barely able to keep her from sliding to the floor. She, too weak to help, too weak to speak, just too....weak.
I kneel on the couch, pushing aside the dog confused by all the commotion he doesn't understand. Lucky dog. Hands under arms, sliding dead weight up onto the couch by using my own weight as leverage. Modesty gone on all counts, no time for it any more. Just the need to make it right without causing pain, and thankful for the Vicoden she's taking. All the strength I have, as gently as I can, but every last bit I can bring forth from a sleep deprived state.
She's up... back.... sighs... looks up a silent thanks at me.
I stagger back to bed, and fall across it. Mind catching up to the last few minutes, breathing out the adrenalin as my body shudders from it's burst of exertion, after being called from a dead sleep just moments before.
I reach for my cell phone, to see the time. 1:58am. Only an hour ago... I had fallen asleep.
Minutes pass, as I willfully push myself to shut back down. Just go back to sleep you sonofabitch. Just sleep.
2:30 am. I give up the struggle, and go make coffee.
The dog is snoring gently, I can hear through the now quiet house.