On Saturday evening, my sister-in-law stumbled on a cobblestone, fell flat on her face, and broke both her shoulders. In great pain, she’s now confined to what amounts to a straitjacket, unable to move her arms or her hands, and reduced to a state of utter dependency. In addition to her constant pain, she faces considerable boredom, since she’s unable even to hold a book. And obviously she cannot continue her work as an artist. This last may be the greatest burden of all. The initial prognosis predicts six months before she has fully regained the functions she has lost.
A vibrant, vivacious, beautiful woman, she had gone with my brother and another couple to Washington, where they intended to visit art galleries and museums for a long-anticipated holiday. On the evening of the second day, she fell. Her sudden calamity illustrates a maxim that I often cite: the next catastrophe is usually unexpected, or, in plain English, you don’t know where it’s coming from.
Years ago, while vacationing on an Aegean island, I read about a middle-aged man who, on a cloudless summer morning, left his home in Athens to go to work. He walked to a bus stop and there he stood waiting. Before his bus could arrive, an automobile, wildly out of control, mounted the sidewalk, crashed into the bus stop, and killed him instantly.
I was sitting on my hotel balcony facing the blue-green ocean when I read of that incident. The beauty of the panorama suddenly dimmed as I thought of an old William Steig cartoon. It pictures a man floating on a rubber tube in a sun-drenched sea. His hands are clasped around his generous middle, his eyes are closed, and he’s smiling happily, as the sun shines down upon him. Beneath him swims an enormous, horrendous sea monster, its mouth open, its teeth long and sharp. The cartoon’s caption is “Complete Peace.”
From time to time it’s salutary to remember that the distance between each of us and disaster is as narrow as a moth’s wing. That’s why my wife and I stand at the open door to watch the other leave our apartment and walk to the elevator. That’s why, when the elevator arrives, we wave to each other goodbye.
I'm so sorry to hear about your sister-in-law. I can't imagine being in her position. I hope she finds a way to adapt over time so that she can find ways to pass the time. Books on tape, perhaps? Not quite the same, at least not to me, as experiencing the joy of holding the book in one's hands, but it might be better than nothing.
ReplyDeleteI hope she's well soon, and that the pain dims quickly!
Thanks, Aravis. I will passyour good wishes on to her.
ReplyDeleteI am sorry for your sister-in-law. A friend of mine fell and broke a shoulder and had to stay for months with the right arm tied to the body unable even to go to bed. She is a single and she is 80. I wonder how she overcame all that. My conclusion is that life is for tough people and that in special circumstances we find a strengh we do not know to have. Wally
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