It's late Sunday and we are covered in vomit and poop and a bit of blood. Dennis went out for one of his infamous walk for poo cruises around the hall with me. It was obvious he wasn't going a second round about half way through.
Then he got anxious. "I'm gonna fall...I'm gonna fall...I'm gonna fall..." Repeat, repeat and repeat again until the wish comes true.
And so, just a few feet shy of the bathroom, he did fall. And he took me down with him. After untangling ourselves, a few incompetent attempts at getting him up at the floor, I called 911. "He's fallen and I can't get him up." If I hadn't been so out of breath and frustrated, I probably would have laughed at what came out of my mouth.
The rescue team came quickly and the three of us were able to get him up into his chair.
It's time to break out the Hoyer.
Until later,
Ann and Dennis
3 comments:
Oh, Ann, I hope you're both okay!
Life's such a series of trade-offs. Once Johnny accepted that he had to use the wheelchair all the time, the number of falls plummeted--which is definitely an improvement over his plummeting. Unfortunately, he had torn his right rotator cuff beyond repair.
Thank God for emergency responders!
Marsha, you are so right. I think Dennis would have died a year ago, had he let himself. But he is a fighter.
We all live our choices.
Sorry for the fall that demolished the rotator cuff. That cannot be easy.
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