Three Reactions
by
Sheila Maurer
The weather was good and I was really looking forward to a trip on the river boat. Sally, my niece, and I hurried to the little hut where tickets were sold, bought two, turned to walk up the path which led to the embarkation dock and then it happened — I found myself on the concrete, face down, my purse several yards ahead, my glasses goodness knows where, and my right hand hurting. The first thing that came into my head was how foolish I must look, so in haste I scrambled to my feet to find a group of interested spectators gazing at me. Sally rushed to help me and I flopped down on the stone balustrade, feeling rather sick and watching my blood drop onto the ground.
Sally's version
Aunt Sheila was walking at a great pace up the shallow steps when suddenly she caught her foot and fell, face downwards, onto the concrete. I rushed to help her and gathered up her handbag and glasses and led her to the balustrade. Luckily I had some Kleenex and began mopping up the blood flowing from her forehead. She was a mess and bang went the idea of a river trip — my last day here. Whatever possessed her to rush like that?
Two more tickets for the river trip. Then I saw a small crowd gathering on the ramp — an accident. Leaving the hut I ran to find out what had happened, and there was the prospective boat-rider sitting with her head in her hands, blood trickling through her fingers. I rushed back to the hut and got a box of Kleenex and decided that she'd have to go to emergency and have her head and hand looked at. Why on earth can't these elderly females realize their limitations and stop walking so fast without looking. I got my car and drove her to St. Boniface Hospital.
