Zombie Face

"Brrrrrrrrrraaaaaaaaiiiiinsssss...."

Sorry - erm...did I say that, or did I think that.

Right now, if you could look at me, you'll see only the glassy, dead stare of the Undead. Didn't realise that till I just caught sight of myself in the mirror and squealed in alarm.

The reason I didn't realise it is because it's the same face I can see on every other person in this room right now. d, for some reason that makes sense only to her, is at the stove, making...of all things...cheese twists.
Ma is staring, glassily, into a glass of red wine the colour of vampire-blood. And my brother Geraint is sitting across the kitchen, in our Dad's Chair, blinking, realising exactly how long he's been awake. We are the Zombie Family tonight. It's been that sort of a day.

Ger arrived Monday night, a little while after I got in from the UberCommute. It was a good call - the doctor on our 12:30 stint with Dad told us to get him here, because of the uncertainty of Dad's condition.

Uncertainty was a big factor in today. Between us, we've operated a kind of rolling watch on Dad today, overlapping and taking shifts and making sure he was at least safe. In some respects, today has been a new low in his ongoing condition...which, when you consider we got a call at 12:30 a few nights ago, is actually saying something. So now we are all just sitting here, staring at each other with the stare of a bunch of zombies.

I'm going to stop now. I have a sneaking suspicion that we're all sitting here in the kitchen on the hard wooden chairs largely because I'm sitting here typing this to you lot. I think when I stop typing, we'll all simply collapse into our primal undead state and be unconscious for several  days.

Zzzzzzz...Braaaaaaaaaainssssszzzzzzzzzzzzzz....