On Falling and Frailty

I just returned from a roll around the backyard and a visit to the front desk to book some outings with the wheelchair van. Small crisis. A visitor comes running in to announce that a resident has just fallen outside on the pavement. She’s frantic. Instead of remaining calm, the staff member at the front desk catches the urgency and freaks out. “Don’t move him until help gets there,” she shouts. Mad panic.

I’m out the front door before the rescuers arrive. I see Old Yeller laying on the sidewalk in front of the bench. He’s very deaf. Many residents are, but he’s the only one who shouts. And swears. Any encounter with Old Yeller is very loud, but he’s strangely quiet now. The visitor is keeping him company, which means I’m not needed so I give him some privacy and keep rolling.

I feel awful when residents fall. I know what it’s like. I curse like a sailor. I remember how it felt in my own bones, in the back of my head when it cracked against a table, wall or floor, or in my shoulders when I fell forward and needed to brace for impact. Then the emotional effects: the shock of finding yourself suddenly on the floor, frustration, anger followed quickly by rage, shame, the fear that it might happen again. I’ve noticed that when old folks fall, it often coincides with a period of declining health. But here’s the thing: does the worsening health happen because of the fall, or is the fall itself a sign that something’s wrong?

I don’t visit the front desk very often. I conduct most of my business over the phone. The last time was when the undertaker showed up to collect Frank’s body. Why, why, WHY does the universe insist on me witnessing these uncomfortable moments of vulnerability? If I had arrived five minutes earlier or later I would’ve missed the whole show. Instead I have a front row seat for both. Is it just random coincidence or am I supposed to take something away? It’s like the minute I roll onto the elevator to go downstairs, it starts a ripple in the cosmos. By the time I get down to the lobby my ripple has swelled into a strong current that carries me along.

I guess I shouldn’t complain. It means I have a steady supply of material to blog about.