PART II: LIFE'S UPS AND DOWNS

For sure, it's a lot more fun to write about life's ups, than downs. However, like I wrote last week, "So much for fame. It's even more fleeting than I imagined." But infamous doesn't seem to have an expiration date. So I might as well fess up before you hear it from someone else.

It happened February 8th. My Grand, Maggie, was performing in A Midsummer Night's Deam at Ipswich High School. One of my favorite classes in college was on Shakespeare, taught by Dr. Batson. So I could hardly wait. However, Shakespeare's dream led to my nightmare.

Since I try to limit how many nights I venture out, I chose the matinee performance. But with five minutes before showtime, lights were already dimmed. And they were presenting this as theater in the round. So one needed to make their way down the aisle of the auditorium, then up on stage for the performance.

Well, it's a long aisle with many steps. Suffice it to say, all was going well until I missed the final step, even with my cane, which I've named Able. You know, cane and able. (Cain and Abel) Oh, well, my family doesn't laugh either. Anyway, in ages past, I could've righted myself, if memory serves me correctly. But not this time. I went flying like I was sliding into home plate. Only I was headed face first towards the orchestra pit. Please don't use your imagination.

But even worse, I yelled. I did not go quietly or gently into the night. And before I could flip over, three people were ready to answer my call. After I rolled over, Earl, a neighbor of Chad's offered to call him. I said, "NO!" (Pride is a terrible thing!) Then Sarah, the ticket taker, asked, "Did you hit your head?" I paused momentarily then said, "No, I'm always like this."

Next, Cassie, the director, who I was meeting for the first time, asked if I needed to go to the emergency room. I said,"No, I want to see the play." Well, after I sat on the floor for a while, to be sure I was reasonably OK, Sarah asked if I felt like standing. I said, "Sure." But part of me was wondering if my knee replacement had lost any screws. It was the knee that I landed on before skidding, thankfully, to a halt before landing in what would normally be the cello section.

So, before I could do too much thinking, Cassie and Sarah bent to lift me up. I asked "Are you sure you're up for this"? They said,"No problem. You're petite." To which I said, "That's a word I've never heard in reference to me. So thank you. Lift away." And they did and I stood. Tested my knee, then headed slowly up the ramp to the stage where a seat was waiting for me, along with a stunned and curious audience. I decided some things are better left unsaid, which I usually remember after I've said them.

Word spread fast. At intermission, Hannah, one of Maggie's friends brought icepacks from the gym where a basketball game was going on. Chad texted to see if I needed him to drive me home.Thoughtfulness showed up over and over again. And, afterwards, I felt good enough to go get groceries, since a storm was coming. Those carts work like walkers. So I felt safe to shop.

It's been ten days since I fell. The knee's still sore but working. No screws loose, at least not where my knee's concerned. And, you know what, it wasn't such a downer after all. The play was great. My knee's mending. As for my pride, it's hanging onto "petite" for a while longer.

And I take comfort from one of my favorite Psalms. In Psalm 139 it says, "O Lord, you have examined my heart and know everything about me! You know when I sit down (or fall and skid) or stand up (with the help of others)"...and "You know what I am going to say even before I say it, Lord." (Like, 'No I didn't hit my head. I'm always like this.")

And still God stays with me and loves me. And you. Which says more about God than me, for sure. I won't speak for you. At least, not this time.

And if this blog didn't, give you a laugh or remind you to tread cautiously, this came from my sister- in- love:

"ME: (Sobbing my heart out, eyes swollen, nose red)...I can't see you anymore...I am not going to let you hurt me like this again!

TRAINER: "It was a sit up. You did one sit up!"

Well, I don't know where Chris finds these, but I hope she keeps 'em coming.

However, I feel I need to add that I hope I wouldn't have sobbed.

But, God only knows.