A-Z Challenge: Today’s letter is F!

She’d fallen again. She’d leaned on the television instead of the wall for support. The television went down with her.

And the first thing Marge thought as she lay there on her bedroom floor was she couldn’t tell her daughter. “Mom your balance is bad. Why didn’t you use your cane?”  She could hear her say.

Marge could see her saying it, looming over her in the tiny emergency room cubicle, and she’d want to ground Jenna as she had when she was a teenager and caught her smoking a cigarette out in the garden shed.

But she’d also want to apologize. Profusely. Especially when her daughter had shown up that time at the hospital her face pale and hair askew; it had been the middle of the night. In a few hours she’d have to be getting her kids off to school. She’d have to prepare a safe lunch for her food allergic son, carefully reading bread ingredients. She’d have to tackle her own worries. And worry only as one can, alone.

Whenever Marge fell, she would lay there for a minute, testing her extremities, alerted to any horrific pain as when she’d fallen on a brick sidewalk and broke her hip. She knew the pain of the broken.

Last time she’d fallen in the middle of the night, she’d hit her head and did press her alert button around her neck. She was taken to the hospital for CT scans, and was fine.

But she’d refused to have them call her daughter. They’d called her a cab instead, and she’d gone home in just her nightgown and worn blue slippers, but with the satisfaction of knowing she’d gotten through the ordeal without her daughter ever having to know.

She would get through this one too. Luckily she’d fallen in a place she’d fallen before; where she could crawl over to the bookshelf. Which was near a chair. She’d push herself up enough to sit herself on the chair. Where she would sit for a few moments to catch her breath before standing up.

It took a good half hour. And by then her tail bone was aching, but that was it. She would be ok. Her daughter would never have to know about this fall either.

Except for the television. Crooked at an odd angle on the floor. It’s screen cracked. Broken.

About Sandra

Author;editor of The Woven Tale Press at thewoventalepress.net; mother; weaver
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10 Responses to Falling

  1. mshatch says:

    Wow, this sounds like my mom who fell a couple of years ago and broke her hip. She has terrible balance and I worry about her a lot – especially since she’s so far away.

  2. Very well written. Sadly this is true of many elderly people who are desperate to maintain their independence and reluctant to burden their children.

  3. Joyce says:

    I once found an elderly neighbor on the ground after trying to retrieve her morning paper. After I helped her up, all she would say is, “Don’t tell my kids. Please, don’t tell my kids.”


  4. Kathy says:

    I think all people want to maintain their independence as long as possible. If anyone were to know, that might steal their independence forever. Brilliant write.


  5. So where exactly did you meet my stubborn mother? You nailed her description perfectly.

  6. Your blog hit (a little too close to) home. My mom passed away three years ago but before she did, I experienced that syndrome where children become the caretakers/worriers of their parents. It’s hard taking care of your parents when it seems like just yesterday they were our strong foundation. Found your blog on the A to Z Challenge. If you get a minute, drop by mine at http://www.dianeweidenbenner.com or “In my own words” title on the blogroll.

  7. I really enjoyed your writing style. This poor woman. It’s sort of funny because I fell the other day and bruised my bone, and I’m not even that old. But I could relate to her, how she sat there for a minute. Great post!

  8. steph says:

    Sad. I’ve read a couple Marge and Jenna stories now and they are well told. I’ve been listening to a friend go through similar scenarios. She becomes so frustrated, and exhausted with her mom. I so admire your writing.

    • Sandra says:

      thanks Steph for taking the time to read them. They’re fictional but always to help me understand my own mom/daughter relationship.

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