One Unexpected Event

 Yesterday I said I would continue the story of why I started this blog, but Heavens to Betsy, life intervened all day today.  So we’ll just have to keep on truckin’, won’t we?

It started as a normal day.  For the first couple of hours, at least.  The coffee was good, the scrambled eggs and hash browns were tasty.  Then I made the one-block trip to the Senior Center and apparently took a wrong step on the concrete sidewalk at the east entrance – down I went.  Landed on the left side of my calf about three inches below my knee.  Ouch.  I haven’t fallen down in more than forty years, probably, but I really wasn’t surprised.  After all, I’m eighty years old and it seemed inevitable.  Something about the law of averages, I think.

Oh well, I told myself, if I must fall, this is a fine-and-dandy place to do it.  I was in the shade, literally on the bright yellow ramp leading to the automatic doors that opened into the dining hall where dozens of my peers were just sitting down for lunch.

So I sat myself up and looked around.  Empty parking lot, no construction workers nearby.  Nobody appeared for the first few seconds.  Then here they came, all at once.  The director of the center sat herself cross-legged on the concrete next to me, and said she thought she would join me for a bit since I’d found a nice resting place.  Nobody seemed upset, probably because I wasn’t moaning or groaning or making a scene. 

After a few minutes, I allowed a few of them to get me on my feet and inside the building where air conditioning and a chair were waiting for me.  I’m not sure which one I enjoyed most.  Marla and Essie (the leaders of the pack) brought me water and Tylenol, ran their fingers around on my scalp and asked me a bunch of questions.  They had already watched the surveillance video and said my head hit the concrete so they had to make sure I had my wits about myself. 

I’m just fine, thank you.  By the time I left the building (escorted to my truck by Essie), all the pain was gone and I was back to my old self.  Literally.  Or maybe I should say my elderly self.

You’ll be happy to know I’ve learned my lesson.  I’ll be using Jim’s trusty old walker from now on.  And I might just go to bed a wee bit earlier and a bit wiser than last night.