Sticks and Stones (and Car Crashes)

I am hoping things really do happen in threes and only in threes, because the real doctors in New York have determined that Grandma Potato Head has a fractured pelvis and some broken ribs (I'm counting the ribs as one "thing") in addition to her fractured shoulder. I don't know whether her bad luck stemmed from her location in the ill-fated taxi or her stature -- she's somewhat of a fingerling potato -- but being snapped in three places when you're eighty years old seems more than sufficient.

Not since my mother had a hysterectomy about thirty years ago has she been bedridden. The adorable EMT in Virginia marveled at her vital signs, which are as solid as those of an average thirty year old. My mother prides herself on maintaining her good health, which she monitors and nurtures as if her life depends on it. Oh wait, it does.

But shit happens, and it never seems fair, particularly when it happens to you or a loved one. Sometimes it takes a car crash to remind us all of how fleeting life is, and how things can change in a heartbeat. My mother, now temporarily immobilized, has been admitted to the hospital, and, once she starts to heal, faces months of rehab. She is strong and healthy, but she is eighty, and I am worried that precious time has been snatched away from her. I've been known to blame her for a lot of things, but I'm fairly certain that this time none of it is her fault.

I spoke to some of her closest friends yesterday to update them, and, no matter how bitterly she complains about them, I could tell they were all devastated. I suppose it hits close to home when one of their number falls. I am sure my mother will chastise me for encouraging them all to visit her in the hospital, but I am also pretty sure she will appreciate the company. It's not like she can hear anything they say, so what's the big deal?

I'm flying out Thursday, to do what little I can to cheer her up and help restore some order to her life, you know, to pack all the cold cream jars of her daily existence in exactly the right spot. Her routines have been shattered (must I count that as a fourth bad thing?), and there aren't any pain killers that can help her with that.