Had a scary and unusual experience a couple days ago. Don continues to love to go with me almost every time I leave the house. There are probably two reasons for that. One is, quite frankly, that he loves me and likes to be with me. Secondly, I’m sure he knows that the time he has to run around town at will may be ending someday in the future, and he wants to take advantage of every chance he has to get out.
We had gone to Shop‘n Save to buy groceries for the month. I ended up with two carts full – quite a load. The lady behind me in line was over-the-top friendly, and I liked her instantly. She bagged her groceries right next to us and insisted on helping with the carts when we left the store. Don went out ahead of us, I was next in line pushing a cart, and Sam (the lady I had just met) was behind me, pushing my cart and pulling her own. Don, for a reason I was to learn later, headed for the curb instead of heading for the handicapped access. I began to scream for him to stop, but watched in horror as his wheels rolled off the edge of the curb and his chair tipped sideways before throwing him to the pavement. He lay still for a few short seconds, and I ran to him. He immediately began trying to move. His powerchair weighs 350 pounds. One of the young boys who works at the store tried to lift it, but didn’t seem to be able to do so. I suppose I had a rush of adrenaline, because I grabbed his powerchair and set it upright before trying to assist him in getting over to it. He used to be able to crawl when he couldn’t walk. He’s no longer able to do that. He drug himself to the chair. As he pulled with his upper body, I took each leg and bent it at the knee in order to move it under his body. He was able to get back in his chair, and I began checking him over. He ended up with a couple abrasions on his wrist and a bruised elbow. When I think of what COULD have happened, I shudder! He was surely keeping his guardian angels busy that day!
Sam helped me get Don to the car and then helped me unload both my carts and stow the groceries away in the van. I chatted with her enough to know that her husband is handicapped, too, but I didn’t get her name any more than “Sam”, and have no idea where she lives. To me that day, she was an angel sent to help us out.
Don told me later that he was intently watching a car that was going through the lot and didn’t look closely enough to realize that he was going off a drop-off. The curb, facing and pavement were all painted yellow, and it looked flat to him. He realized, too late, what he had done.
Life certainly brings some unexpected turns. I’ve found time every day since that event to thank God for protecting Don from serious injury and for sending me an “angel” in tight jeans!