When the phone rang I ran to answer it, still wearing the eyeglasses meant for sitting and reading, or sitting and driving. I was not reading or driving or sitting when I fell and crashed head first into the concrete counter top. And then to the floor, phone in hand.
“Uh, … hi,” I said into the cell phone, noticing my glasses in two pieces on the floor next to me. I also noticed my right arm and left knee were sore and there was a sharp pain coming from my right shoulder blade. From the throbbing in my head, I was sure I had a concussion.
I called my sister. The one who’s a doctor in Massachusetts, not the one who sends me gift-cards and recipes from Florida.
“Do you think I should go to the hospital?”
If you ask my sister a question she will answer you with a billion more questions.
“Did you black out? Do you have any memory loss of what happened before you fell or right after?” she began the interrogation. “Headache? Drowsiness? Confusion?” We went over exactly what happened. And the signs of trouble to watch for: headache, nausea, vomiting. She mentioned icing and heating and I wondered how I could tend so many different bruised places.
“You’re probably going to have a shiner by tomorrow,” she said. I thought of the black eye and changing landscape of my face when I broke my nose three years ago: the colors of oceans, then of summer grass, and finally a shade like wheat ready for harvest.
“Thanks, Doctor Botie. I hope you’re not going to charge me for your services today,” I said, thinking we were done.
“Who phoned?” she asked. Was she still assessing my mental status or was she just being nosey now?
“It was a telemarketer!” I said, suddenly remembering. Then right away I knew I had stumbled into this week’s blog post.
I really like your skill at spinning a tale Robin. I would enjoy sitting with you on a couple of comfy chairs with our bare feet tucked up under us, wine glasses held at stems, (although I rarely drink I do like to hold a glass because… well, I like how it looks and feels) and you and me sharing our writings together.
That would definitely be fun. Thank you so much for the compliment, Susan. I miss listening and sharing writings with others. I wish you were around to start a writers’ group. The wineglasses (mine full please) and bare feet sound great. Cheers!
Nothing like being flat on the floor to bring us to our senses. I’m glad you have your sister and hope the shiner isn’t huge. You always create a lovely dream-photo image for your blogs. I love them.
Thank you again, Elaine. My colors are taming down and the pain in my back only torments me when I sneeze. Which I seem to do a lot. Talking about senses, I wonder why pain isn’t considered a sense? Cheers!
I also feel that urgency of picking the phone when it rings, I feel guilty otherwise, agh…!
Urgency. Yes, that’s the right word. But there’s also joy because you assume or hope it’s a friend or good news. Walk don’t run, walk don’t run, walk don’t run, … I tell myself now when the phone rings. Thanks for responding, Lily Lau. Cheers!
Clearly the moral of the story is that we all have to learn not to answer the phone just because it rings. I also get upset when the phone rings when I’m busy — especially when it’s a call from someone I really need to talk with. Oh well. This is what life is like with smart phones and caller ID and busy people in our lives.
I hope you are feeling better and better every day and I hope this doesn’t happen again!
Love, Myra
We have the power to simply not answer. Yes, you said it. But something in me leaps with joy when I hear the phone ring, especially if I’m by myself. If it’s a telemarketer or someone I really don’t want to hear from it’s a big letdown. And this was more like a splashdown. But my eye looks nearly normal now and my spine only hurts when I sneeze. I think the lesson I’m taking from this is : walk don’t run when the phone rings. Cheers, Myra.