The Fall

The Fall

In the autumn of 1996, my administrative assistant called into my office while I was seeing a patient.  This was highly unusual - she knew that I only tolerated interruptions in emergent situations.   “I think it’s about your Mother.”  I picked up the phone and it was Mrs. Wu, my mother’s neighbor and one of her oldest friends.  “It’s your mother.  She’s hurt and you need to come.  She’s going to the hospital now.”  I told my patient that my mother was hurt and I had to go.  “What are you waiting for?  Go quickly!” I remember him exclaiming.

I was in the attic in the old house.  It was after 2 years after your father and sister passed and I was still not used to living there by myself.  It was raining and I wanted to check that the attic window was closed so that water didn’t leak through.  I was able to see the dust and wooden beams with the aid of the afternoon light.  I stepped toward the front window, as I had done so a hundred times before, my foot steeping near the skylight in the attic floor, when I started to fly downwards, no longer supported by anything solid.  I could feel myself falling and falling.   My legs hit first, striking the staircase leading from the living room to the second floor bedrooms.    I think my head hit the bannister.  But I was still conscious.  My right leg hurt tremendously and I knew I couldn’t walk.  I crawled to the corded telephone, knowing that it was just a few feet away from where I eventually stopped rolling, at the bottom of the stairs.  I saw the cord and pulled the phone towards me and called Mary Wu.  I don’t even remember what I told her, just that I needed help.  I then dialed 911, and after what seemed like only minutes, I could hear the front door being unlocked and opening.  Luckily Mary had a spare house key.  The ambulance workers followed her in and I was taken away to Elmhurst Hospital. 

I remember thinking “I can’t die.  Irving has been through too much already.”  Your sister and father had passed just 2 years ago and I had just finished my chemotherapy for my (ovarian) cancer.  I just had to make it through.

My plane landed at LaGuardia Airport at around 9:00pm and I sped in a taxi to the hospital.  She appeared beat up, a shiner where her face had hit and a leg that was shattered in 2 places.  Metal rods were inserted the next day and after 3 days I had her on a plane with me back to Arkansas where she stayed for 3 months while recovering with rest and physical therapy.

Today, I see my mother at age 84, by the fence line every morning overlooking the Arkansas River, doing Tai Chi followed by a ½ mile walk around the campus parade grounds by my home.  I can’t help appreciating the miracle of her survival from this fall – literally 25 feet through the attic floor to the staircase.  She is the toughest woman I have ever known.