Yesterday I rhapsodized about my Aunt Izzy, who at the age of 84 is hauling rocks in from the woods and creating her beautiful garden.
Today I found out was 84 can really be like.
A Sweet Little Old Lady fell in our office today. She's 81 years old. She had her little cane, and some great big rubber soled shoes. She simply turned from the counter, stumbled, and fell across the room.
We all saw it happening, we all gasped, but of course, no one could get to her quickly enough to grab her.
She fell forward, and I thought she hit her head on the doorjamb. I rushed over, calling over my shoulder for a co-worker to dial 911.
The poor sweet lady was laying flat on her back, moaning. I asked if she'd hit her head, and she said no. (Thank God). But she hit her shoulder and couldn't move her arm.
We spent the next hour with EMT's and medics. They gave her morphine so they could move her arm, got her onto a gurney and carted her away.
The whole time, she kept kicking herself (figuratively) for being so clumsy. "I'm so independent", she said more than once. I'm sure she was concerned about how this was going to effect her ability to live alone and take care of herself.
My heart broke for her. She was so helpless, lying there. I gave her what comfort I could, but she was understandably very distraught. Unfortunately, we probably won't get to find out how she made out.
I hope she's okay.