Before I get started, just a quick word in reference to my last post: I did not jump out of bed and into my laptop for the next two days because I didn’t didn’t wake up with something on my mind that I wanted to share. So there is one more thing about me and blogging: I need a reason beyond a promise to write every day.
This morning I woke up with a reason, so here I am writing.
Yesterday’s mail brought me a letter from a friend back in in Arkansas. I had been concerned when I couldn’t get through on her phone and had written her a letter last week. Jean is eighty-four, and like some of my older friends does not use email or Facebook. She owns a piano, a huge library of books, DVD’s, CD’s, and sheet music but no laptop.
When I got this letter from her it came from a different address than the one I had written to. This is the opening sentence:
“On Dec 28 after visiting my friend Shirley, I came in, hung up my cane, hooked my foot on a little table & went flying thru the air, landing on my back—primarily on my pelvis.”
She was only able to move her arms and remained on the floor for two days before her daughter returned from her out-of-town Christmas trip and stopped in to check on her. At first Jean had yelled for help every time she heard people or cars, but nobody heard her. The friend she had been visiting was only two doors down in the small single-story apartment complex but Shirley is deaf and also physically incapable of leaving her apartment without assistance.
So there she lay or two days, in pain and no food. She had only a partial bottle of water within reach to get through the ordeal.
This could be an ad for one of those life-alert services.
Things can happen so quickly. You think you are independent and safe and then Surprise!
Like when my dad got up to go the bathroom one night, tripped on his sheet, and split his scalp open enough to have it stapled back together in emergency. At least in that instance, his wife was there and called me to come help since he refused to let her call 911.
But then there was the other time when he tripped on the curb outside his mobile home in the senior complex where he’d recently moved. His wife was out with friends for the day, and he lay helpless in the street for hours. Nobody saw him or drove by until his wife got back home.
Another one of my friends who took her dog out in her yard the first night in her new home only to find she had locked herself out. She wound up walking several miles in the dark, winding roads, no street lights sidewalks, to get to where her daughter lived. She knew she couldn’t restrain her German Shepard on the street and didn’t have her leash, so she wound up slipping her bra off to improvise one. ?
What am I saying? Independence is great, but it has its hazards? Some events you just can’t plan for?
Even this morning I had planned to sit here and write for an hour, but I had a run of technical issues that caused me to keep losing my text and going on wild-goose chases trying to retrieve it. I am finishing up at 9:30 instead of 7:30 as planned.