It was not a dark and stormy night, but it was dusk and starless.Preparing for my Everyday Italian class in a new location, I drove off in my trusty Toyota. At the last minute I tossed into my purse my monthly calendar, medical insurance cards, flashlight and driver's license along with a copy of the daily meds Des and I take. Not that I am OCD or anything. Something told me to do it.
For some reason I couldn't get the dashboard lights to work. I fiddled with the flashlight but it didn't work either and I drove in the dark. The classroom wasn't where I expected it to be. This is not a good week, I muttered silently. My good friend and fellow writer, Jan Curran, died two days ago. Will write about that another time. It hurts too much now.
After parking my car and heading up a gravelly path I found a group of ukelele players where my classroom should be. They didn't speak Italian. I didn't speak ukelele. I said ciao and wanderd back down the path, crossed a small sidewalk towards lights in the distance and Kerplop! I tripped over a sneaky curb and went end over end.
No human in sight except for a retreating figure. I yelled. She turned and rushed towards me. My Italian teacher all shocked at my predicament, followed by a student who tried to comfort me. Talk about serendipity. Calm chaos prevailed. No one even said Mamma Mia.
Someone wheeled out a chair from a nearby classroom and I sat on it gingerly, as purple colors appeared on my arms and my left knee began to swell. My teacher had to get to her classroom. The good samaritan stuck by me while we made a flurry of cell phone calls. First call to my house got the answering machine, followed by a friend's machine and and finally to my son's home to be greeted with another answering machine. At least his had cheery music. I made the calls again and left messages this time.
At last, Des got the message. I gave him directions on how to find me and then wondered if I should pray to St. Anthony, my mother's favorite patron saint for finding lost things. Well, he actually found me, or maybe St. Anthony came through. But not before the poor good samaritan chased his Saturn up and down the road waving frantically as he sailed past us. He later said he wondered why this crazy girl was chasing him.
Meanwhile, daughter-in-law Barbara and grandson Andy pulled up and I was surrounded by family. A short mini conference made it clear that Des should go straight home, Barbara would drive my car to her house and Andy would take me to the ER. Andy was a calm, steady presence while I fretted about broken hips and one way tickets to the proverbial nursing home.
The rest of the story is mundane. The ER was efficient and promptly got me into a wheel chair and eventually took xrays of my hip and pelvic area, wrapped my swollen knee in an ACE bandage and blessedly pronounced no broken bones. Andy drove me home to hungry cats and a worried husband. David and Barbara brought my car home the next morning . I think the fine layer of padding cushioning my hips saved me from cracks and brake. In fact, my sweet Dr. Murphy actually confirmed that fact on an office visit two days later. So bring on the spaghetti, pizza on the side.
As for me, I feel like the luckiest girl on the planet, but we know it wasn't luck. Someone was watching over me.
So says Sassy
