I have been living with the fear of falling since my late eighties and early nineties. I thought I had everything covered — a telephone in every room, grab bars in the bathroom, a LifeLine around my neck, a cell phone in my pocket whenever I left the house. I never thought a simple act of stupidity would bring me to the floor. But last Saturday it did, and I felt like a turtle must feel when it finds itself upside down resting on its protective shell.
All winter I exist on Meals on Wheels during the week, and prepared tuna and chicken salads from Cronig’s on the weekends. But my daughter Sarah arrives from California this week to spend the summer with me so I had canceled my Meals on Wheels deliveries. I decided I could feed myself the few days until her arrival, and was making a real meal for myself, an easy but favorite one that would last a couple days.
My legs don’t support me as well as they used to and I need to sit down a lot. Preparing a whole meal is a real challenge, but curried chicken, mashed potatoes and frozen green beans with sauteed slivered almonds was always a favorite of mine, so I thought I would try it.
A bag of mashed potatoes could be easy. Just add water and butter and milk and I would have enough potatoes for several meals. Frozen green beans only needed five minutes cooking time before adding the almonds. I would cook the almonds ahead of time and add them to the beans at the last minute.
The curried chicken breast would need to be cooked in the oven for one and a half hours, so I began my preparations about 4 p.m. I have a stool in my kitchen, tucked in a space between two counters and the wall, and I sit in it often as my standing time is limited. It sits there, out of the way, except when I have to stir or watch something carefully while it is cooking. Then I move the stool in front of the stove. It all worked well until Saturday.
First I sat on my stool to peel the onion and apple that would go into the curry sauce. Then I moved my stool over in front of the stove so I could watch and stir them as I added the curry powder. I added the cream, and cream of mushroom soup and heated it up. Next I would put it all in the oven and relax for an hour in my recliner before finishing up with the beans and potatoes.
I didn’t expect to spend that period of time on the kitchen floor — but I did. After getting the curry sauce ready, I moved back to sit on my stool while I prepared the chicken breast. But as I backed up and lowered myself onto the stool to sit down, the stool wasn’t there. It was still by the stove where I had been stirring the curry sauce. I didn’t realize this until I was too low to reverse my descent, so down I went into this enclosed space, grabbing at the counters to slow my fall. I landed softly but couldn’t gather my legs to get me out of this space.
The kitchen telephone was out of reach on the counter. My cell phone was on the stool in the hall, also out of reach. I didn’t want to rouse the town to a non-emergency by using my Life-Line when I wasn’t hurt. I just needed two strong people to pull me out of the predicament I had stupidly gotten myself into.
So I yelled and luckily Deborah heard me and came to my rescue. But I was a dead weight and stuck into a three sided trap. It would take two people to get me out of it. She called my son, and then my daughter-in-law and my granddaughters. But no one in my family was answering their cell phones. Then I asked her to call the Maleys. It was Eileen who came at once and helped Deb get me off the floor and onto my feet.
After a few moments of recovery, I discovered that I had no frozen green beans to mix with the slivered almonds. At that point, with the chicken finally in the oven, I retreated to my recliner to recover my confidence in dealing with life at ninety-one.
But wait, I learned a couple of lessons from this experience, and I pass them on. Always keep your cell phone in your pocket in case an elderly relative calls you for help. And always check your recipe ingredients before you start to cook.
Shirley Mayhew lives in West Tisbury.
Comments
Comment policy »