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When you’re little and you get hurt, the first place you go to make it all better is to your mother. In our family, you don’t. My mother is a wonderful, caring person but let’s just say that she is not the most coordinated person on the planet.
Growing up, I had four sisters and we were all close in age. So at any given time one of us had some kind of injury, either a broken arm or a leg. As we grew up, the injuries began to get more serious. About eight years ago, I was in a bad automobile wreck. I broke my neck and all the bones in my pelvic region. After three months in the hospital, my parents decided that I should stay with them until I was healed enough to return home. That was a mistake!
My parents live in a small village in Northwest Ohio that has one stop light, two stores, and a diner. The streets are the old-fashioned style that has a huge slant and the extra high curbs that cause your car door to fly open and get stuck on the curb. My first week there, my father decided to drive us downtown to eat lunch at the local diner. I was wearing a neck brace and was hobbling around on a pair of crutches. We got out of the car, went into the diner, and lunch was fine.
When we were leaving, I stood beside the car waiting for everyone else to enter. Once the others are in the car, here comes Mom. She opens the passenger driver’s door, which because of the slant flies open and knocks me right off my crutches. There I sit, sprawled on the street while my mother, who is five feet tall and weighs 100 lbs. soaking wet, is trying to loosen the car door which has got my leg pinned underneath. This is impossible because of the extra weight in the car with everyone else being inside. Instead of yelling at my father to get out of the car to help, she struggles with the door for about two minutes. In the meantime, I am starting to lose feeling in my leg. I can’t scream for help myself due to the damage to my vocal chords. Finally, my father, who is 6’ 4” tall and has been in the car arguing with my two younger sisters, figures out that something is wrong. He gets out of the car and asks my mom why she didn’t ask him for help. My mom just stood there as Dad lifted the whole car door with one hand and pulled me out with the other. I just thank God that my dad was there.
No major damage was done, but I would be leery of my mother taking care of me again. My other sisters have not quite learned this lesson. Last week, my mom dumped my sister out of her wheel chair (she has a broken leg) and tumbled over it herself. A sprained shoulder later, my mother has finally given up any dreams of entering the nursing profession, a blessing for the entire medical community.
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