Quote:
Originally Posted by gregorio
Lapka, there's an older woman who lives across the street from me. She's maybe 70, and she often sits out in her front yard all day making whining and groaning noises and talking to herself loudly enough that I have to keep my windows closed in order to not hear her. I think she's speaking in English most of the time, but she has a very heavy Ukrainian accent and is very difficult to understand.
I'm not sure what her health issues are, but she uses a walker, and a few times a week she gets picked up by a mobility van from a long-term care center for some sort of medical appointments. Her daughter and her daughter's boyfriend and their kids live with her, and they often yell at each other in the driveway (which is an anomaly in this white, middle class,demure neighborhood) but probably not to the extent that LFS would need to intervene.
Earlier today I go out to my garden and hear her making her noises like she always does and don't pay much attention. But after a while it occurs to me that it seems like she's crying out much louder than she usually does. So I look over to see what all this fuss is about, and it appears she's fallen to the ground and is on her hands and knees trying to pull herself back up, shrieking out, "help me, someone please help me."
So obviously my first inclination is to think, there's no way she saw me, I can just go back inside and wait for someone else to hear her and help out. But inspired by the stories of bravery and heorism here recently--not just the way El Diablo let a pregnant woman have his seat, but also LFS standing up to that abuser, and Villian's girlfriend walking up to a gun-toting maniac and daring him to pull the trigger--I feel compelled to take action.
So I go over to where she's lying and ask if I can help. She says yes, please help me up. I try offering her my hands to help pull her up, but she says, no, no, go around behind and lift me. Now this is not a particularly easy task, as she has considerable girth, and is heavy enough that the reason she is on the ground in the first place is that one of the legs of her chair snapped off under her weight.
But I manage to straddle her from behind and grab her under her arms. I couldn't get my arms all the way around her, and had to struggle to not press into her boobs too much as I tried to deadlift what felt like a 250 lbs pillow wearing a skimpy sun dress. Eventually I get her to her feet, and she manages to balance long enough for me to grab one of her other chairs and move it under her. I asked if there's anyone in the house she wants me to get or if there's anyone I should call, but she tells me no, she's fine now. So I retun home, take a shower to wash off all the sweaty flabby old woman skin residue, and then make my "bless her heart" post. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me. I was not myself after the ordeal I'd just been through, and was just trying to make some light-hearted banter. I meant no offense. I am sorry.
There is an old story, apocryphal no doubt, about the big fat atheist David Hume falling into a mud puddle in Edinborough and, unable to extricate himself without assistance, was forced into swearing fealty to Jesus (or the Pope, or the C of E, or whatever the hell else) to get out.
Keep this in mind, Greg, next time you see an old woman in need of aid.
Some days, I just love 2p2. This is one of them.