"Don’t write about the weather,” more than one editor has told me in the past. Well, this is not about the weather – it’s about the effects of the weather!
We were certainly surprised by this unpredictable and lingering winter, and the confinement many of us have endured. Old people who no longer drive expect to spend a lot of time indoors, but it certainly comes to most people as a surprise. Maybe it is a pleasant one for a couple of days, but this?
To begin with for me, Jennifer, who has become my right hand, called to tell me she was too sick to come Thursday, before our last snow storm unleashed – even before the warnings of what was to come were issued. So what? I had plenty of food in the apartment, I have not forgotten how to do for myself and nothing was urgent. I could wait for Jennifer to feel better and I could certainly take care of myself – and there were always basketball games to watch.
One great thing about living in the Hanover Towers is that you never have to be isolated. There are always other people around if you want company. I was invited to come for soup at the apartment of a most hospitable neighbor, and in getting ready for the event, I stripped and opened my walk-in closet door to deposit the dirty clothes in the basket. Instead I fell on my face next to the basket. I sat on the floor and considered my options. Of course I had removed the button which I could have used to call for help. I was stark naked. In order to summon any help, I would have to get out of that closet! If I could get out of the closet and get to my feet (or at least my bottom), I could get to a telephone and call somebody or at least 911.
So I scooted on my bottom over to the toilet and managed to use that stationary object to leverage myself up. By then, I didn’t need help, nor did I relish exposing my 94-year-old body to anyone’s gaze. It’s bad enough that I have to observe my deterioration – nobody else needs bear witness.
So I managed to get dressed and get to the soup party. I entertained the other guests with my just-having-happened tale of woe, and recalled the first time my alarm around the neck button was new. The installer assured me that I could bathe with it, that water wouldn’t hurt it. So I did. I was new in the apartment and new to the button. I was drying it, just out of the shower, when the doorbell rang. I covered myself with a towel and went to the door, where there were three firemen and a member of the managing board. “Do we have a fire?” I asked. But no – I had summoned them by drying my button. My body was somewhat draped in a towel... but rest assured, I have not worn the button in the shower since then. I guess I won’t get bare-assed to deposit my dirty clothes in the laundry basket either. When you are this old, you’re supposed to maintain some dignity. cc