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    • Losing My Dad
    • You've Got Cancer
    • Help! I've Fallen!
    • Cancer Poems
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    • Dancin' at Gilda's
    • Corona Virus
    • Sex- Part One
    • Reverse Mortgages
    • Baby Boomers
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    • Baby Fat
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    • John Wayne and Elvis
    • Face Masks
    • Shake Your Booty
    • Openings and Closings
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    • AARP
    • Mother's Day and Pasta
    • Mind Gardening
    • A Place for Mom (or Dad)
    • Self-Esteem and Aging
    • Aunt Friz
    • COVID RAGE
    • CANCER SURVIVORS-ROCK!
    • HUMOR-COVID
    • My Dog is on Prozac
  • Home
  • Losing My Dad
  • You've Got Cancer
  • Help! I've Fallen!
  • Cancer Poems
  • Lotto Tickets
  • Dancin' at Gilda's
  • Corona Virus
  • Sex- Part One
  • Reverse Mortgages
  • Baby Boomers
  • Wrinkles
  • Baby Fat
  • Wigs and the 3 Stooges
  • Dog Dementia
  • Willie Wilson
  • John Wayne and Elvis
  • Face Masks
  • Shake Your Booty
  • Openings and Closings
  • Love Boat
  • AARP
  • Mother's Day and Pasta
  • Mind Gardening
  • A Place for Mom (or Dad)
  • Self-Esteem and Aging
  • Aunt Friz
  • COVID RAGE
  • CANCER SURVIVORS-ROCK!
  • HUMOR-COVID
  • My Dog is on Prozac

Help! I've Fallen!

And I Can't Get Up

  

And I can’t get up!  Gee, I hate that commercial!  Of course everyone over the age of 60 worries about falling down a flight of stairs and lying there for days, with no food or water and body fluids soaking our knickers.

True story.

3 a.m.  My phone rang.

“This is Sgt. McCarthy from the Evergreen Park Fire Department.  Do you know the Carparelli’s?”

“Of course, I know them,” I said.  “They are my parents.”

“They are trapped in the bathroom and can’t get out. Your mother has fallen. Do we have your permission to take the door down?”

“Please, take it down,” I said, ready to faint.

So, they took it down and took my Mother to the hospital.  She had fallen on the bathroom floor, called my Father, who went in the bathroom and then couldn’t open the door because of my Mother’s walker and my Mother on the floor.  Luckily, she always carried her little flip phone with her at all times.  

She dialed 911.  

The paramedics climbed in through the unlocked kitchen window.

When I arrived later, Mom was gone and Dad was sitting with our dear neighbor, Joe.  The blood had been wiped up. Dad was 95 at the time and not able to hop in an ambulance with her.  Mom was 89 and had not been well for ten years. This fall was a culmination of a year of difficult situations.

Within a month, my Mother would pass away.  A fall often precedes death; not the cause but another contributing factor to the inevitable weakening of the body and spirit.

My Mother, as many older and sick people, was very stubborn.  She wouldn’t allow her daytime caregiver to sleep over because of “the money.”  Instead she expected my 95 year old father to get up with her when she needed to go to the bathroom. 

I was working full-time, but even so, the situation was beyond my physical and emotional capabilities. 

There was a “Twilight Zone,” vibe to this occurrence. The middle of the night call, the parents stuck in a small room, the missing bloodstains in the morning.  Was it real or a dream?

My father, sitting in his chair in the back room, looking exhausted and worried, assured me this was no fantasy.

The reality of aging and impending death, not with a whimper but with a crash and a bang.

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  • Help! I've Fallen!
  • Baby Boomers
  • A Place for Mom (or Dad)
  • Aunt Friz
  • CANCER SURVIVORS-ROCK!
  • HUMOR-COVID
  • My Dog is on Prozac