I spent the morning slothfully draped in my uncool bathrobe. I should have known better. Life is much less eventful when fully clothed. The phone call request was simple. Someone fell down and needed help. I ran as fast as I could in bare feet and with a long robe flapping around my ankles. The empty driveway at the house of the two nurses made my stomach twist. If only they were home, everything would be okay. The front door at my destination was locked. I raced to the side of the house questioning how I would get inside if all the doors were locked. The side door was open and as soon as I stepped inside, I could see the tiny woman on the floor.
I could have lifted her and carried her to her couch. I should have called 911 as I raced across the street. Instead, I kneeled on her immaculately clean floor and asked her where it hurt while I gently felt the pulse in her ankles. She was in pain and wanted me to move her. I asked her husband if he had called Rural Metro. He explained that his children were coming over before anyone else. He was very clear on that point. That was my cue to help move his wife. I just couldn’t do it. I was terrified that her pain was a warning that something was wrong. She looked like a delicate porcelain doll.
On the floor nearby was a grocery list and pen. She fell racing across the house with a cane instead of a walker because she was busy working on a menu for her husband. She was hurting and embarrassed and all she could think about was finding foods that her husband would be able to eat. If my heart ached, hers had to be breaking.
Doug appeared in the doorway to see how he could help. I tried telepathy, but he couldn’t read my mind. I tried hints. “You go back to the house and I’ll come home when HELP gets here.” I tried telepathy again. With no indication that he understood my plea for someone to call 911, Doug left and I felt increasingly helpless. Paramedics should already be there.
After what felt like forever, the couple’s adult son walked in and asked why nobody had called 911. Before his father had finished explaining that he wanted to wait, the son had finished the phone call. I was torn between being amused at the personality similarities in father and son and being terrified the son was going to rip my face off for not calling 911.
When the couple’s adult daughter arrived and took her place by her mother, I slinked away in my bathrobe. I felt like the only thing I did right was keeping the injured woman still. After what truly felt like forever, the fire department and ambulance finally arrived. Before the end of the day, the woman was back home and getting around easiy with her walker. I should have just picked her up off the floor. I think I hate that bathrobe.
3 thoughts on “porcelain person”
You guys have quite the dramatic little neighborhood, don’t you? 🙂
You did the right thing. If you all had lifted her, you could have made her injuries worse, or given her a new one.
I still don’t understand his insistence at waiting on the offspring to arrive. But yes, you did do the right thing.