And Down She Goes

Monday was just one of those days. Everything I did for work seemed to take ten times as long as I wanted it to and I was unsatisfied with things no matter what I did. However, at the end of my work day I had managed to get a fair amount done so I gratefully closed up my little laptop and went to take a shower. I figured I would pop out all clean and happy and I’d relax, have a glass of wine and chat to my husband about what to have for a dinner.

I’m still not quite sure what happened. I had one foot in the shower, trying to adjust the shower head, and then I went to lift my other leg over the low edge of the shower floor and things just went haywire from there. Down I went, pulling the towel rack out of the wall as I frantically tried to catch myself. I think I hit my shoulder on the toilet, don’t know what my knee and calf hit, maybe just the floor.

Poor Ernie came racing in and I assured him I was ok. I laid there for a minute trying to figure out what to do. I managed to figure out where my limbs were and rolled over and sat up. Ernie and I looked at each other and tried to figure out what I should do next.

It occurred to me that I was naked so I asked for a dress.

After clothing myself, followed by much rolling and kneeling and trying different things to pull myself up or push myself up, I was still on the floor. I’d start to tear up but then I’d tell myself I could cry later. One of my legs doesn’t like to do what is requested of it however, so I just couldn’t get it to do what was needed. Finally I gave in and told Ernie to call the fire department.

They were here in no time, of course with the big red truck. Sigh. I really HAVE become my mother. Three handsome firefighters arrived and had me on my feet in a minute. I’m not sure if they really were handsome but there’s something about the combination of uniform and confidence and kindness that gives them a positive aura. When I commented on this Leo said, “Well, there’s a reason there’s no song called Fuck the Firefighters.” I laughed and laughed. Leo really is incredibly funny. He’s dry, and just slides them in quietly. God, I love him so.

After they had me up and I used my walker to get to a chair and gratefully sit down they asked me a few questions to make sure I didn’t need anything else, then they were gone in a flash.

Ernie and I were both exhausted. The adrenalin let down I suppose. Fortunately Owen’s band was practicing downstairs and that always makes me happy. We jettisoned our dinner plans and decided to order out. Papa Del’s didn’t have a delivery driver so we kept looking. Nothing even sounded good but eventually we landed on gyros, one of our favorite comfort foods that we rarely eat. We always end up reminiscing about favorite gyros places in our past. The Hip Pocket here in Champaign, and Aphrodite in Chicago. It was in the Aphrodite, in one of the storefronts by the stunning old Granada Theatre (RIP) in Rogers Park, that one of the cooks told a glammed up, punked up 80’s Cynthia, “You look like movie star.” Yeah, there was a time. The gyros there were incredibly fragrant, greasy and almost spicy with the seasonings in that cone of meat. Perfect late at night. Our weren’t as good last night but they scratched our itch and comforted us. I didn’t feel like a movie star, but I felt better, I felt safer.

The whole thing almost seems unreal except that I woke up bruised and aching this morning. I slept hard although I woke up in the middle of the night and googled mobility aids, trying to figure out what could help me next time. Evidently I fell asleep doing this as I woke up with my cheek on my phone.

Onward.

Love,
Cynthia