Last night was my first night spent at my new apartment.
I can't say I slept well. I had to get up at 7 and I didn't get to sleep until 3.
But thankfully the ugly 70's AC units worked....and I couldn't hear too much of the crazed neighbor I have. (but let's not digress)
Today, just before noon, I call my mother, just to check up on her. I was not expecting this.
"I think I broke my foot." She tells me.
"What???" When? Are you ok?"
"Yeah, but I think I need to go to the doctor," she tells me.
"Why didn't you call me last night?"
"It was too late"
So, I rush back to her house....and get her to the doctors. (a long ordeal...but let's not digress again.
In fact I only just now got back from the wheelchair place now....in horrible blinding rain and traffic)
Sure enough, she has fractured her foot....again. (It's the second time. She has osteoporosis)
So she's back the wheelchair.
While we're waiting, I get more of the details of last night.
She was outside last night, bringing something to the garbage can and fell on the stepping stones.
(What's ironic is that I fell and nearly fractured my own foot about 3 weeks ago.
It's like she and I are living in a continuous loop of that stupid commercial..."I've fallen, and I can't get up!")
She couldn't crawl back in because of the pain.
Thankfully, she saw a couple walking by and called to them for help.
"They must have thought I was some drunk on the street," she tells me.
They helped her back in.
Aaaaaaaanyway, I'll be back sleeping here for the indefinite future....at least until she can get herself back on her feet. Doctors again tomorrow.
And the guilt....well, let's not even go there.