Related Stories
-
The Feelgood Factor
-
David O’Meara jumps to it with Ifandbutwhynot
-
Going Dutch
-
Jockey Richie McLernon well ‘Worth’ his salt in week 47
-
TechNO!
-
Paddy Power success for McLernon at Cheltenham
-
The New Trioka
-
Tony McCoy imperious to the tune of 4,000
-
Tubridy & Sean Og – in conversation
-
Linehan tops class with three for O’Neill
-
Jackdaws Racing in scintillating form
-
Ellen’s Week – Virtual guilt tripping
If you live alone, have a history of falling over, and a further history of being unable to get back up on your feet when you do, then your family worry. Not all the time, of course, for they are practical people, but on occasion.
Over the years after several false starts my family seem to be strategically scattered mostly in county Cork - three couples in the Fermoy area, one in Ballinhassig. Then there are two couples in Dungarvan and Enniscorthy, and two singles in Youghal and Brisbane, Australia. That, I think, accounts for my close relatives.
Living alone isn’t all bad, it does have advantages. When you’re going out you don’t have to say where, or when you’ll be back - or if, indeed, you plan on coming back at all! When the phone rings it will be for you. When the doorbell rings it will be for you too and you don’t have to shout: “I’ll get it”. Oh, and you get to own the remote control. That’s about it really.
The ‘falling over stuff’ is something you get used to. Like other people similarly affected, I have this pendant strapped on my wrist. When I press it, it rings a call centre in Enniscorthy and a reassuring voice dials my phone and enquires: ‘You’ve pressed your pendant Aileen, are you alright?’ Am I ever.
If I am crumpled on the floor the Emergency Response people will ring the first of three people who are key holders, moving on to the second or even the third depending on responses. I understand that in the event of drawing a blank with all three key holders, the local public emergency services are contacted. Which is no bad thing - you may need to be carried away in an ambulance.
Falling inside the house is better than outside - this time of year you get cold very quickly outside. Best of all is falling on the street or car park where rescue is usually immediate - if you don’t mind making a show of yourself and you are strong enough to persuade your rescuers not to call an ambulance.
Last summer my No. 1 key holders were lying in bed somewhere in France when they were summoned to rescue me. Sometimes the Emergency Response people don’t cancel the first key holder after they call the second - and so you get two sets of rescuers arriving almost together. (But not, of course, the couple in France).
Lest it seems like falling over and being rescued is enjoyable, I assure you that staying upright on your own two feet I strongly recommend. The human frame was not designed to withstand sudden impact with the ground. Bits get bruised, even broken.
The thing that really spooks family is if, or when, I disappear off the radar entirely as can happen, if I have been using the phone (say to Fermoy where the call rings out and I leave a message) then omit clearing the line (mine is a cordless phone). Family try to return call, but my phone is sending out strange signals.
They wait a while and try again. Still no good. After this has gone on over a few hours family now are concerned. Family fear I have fallen with the phone, am injured and broken the phone - possibly even more than the phone. Hands, wrists, collar bones, even a bad knock on the head come to mind. What to do?
Here’s where networking comes in. Family in Fermoy ring Ballinhassig and the ever reliable Tadgh sets out to investigate. Quite unaware of all this I am settling down to watch EastEnders when there is a loud knock on the door. ‘There seems to be something wrong with your phone’, he explains after we have exchanged the usual pleasantries. And of course there was. There it lay bleeping away to itself, a row of digits across its little dial.
As a key holder Tadgh will later confide that as he waited at the door, he had been psyching himself up to use his key and come in, dreading what he might find - an injured frightened woman . . . or? He is too polite to say a dead woman.
Anyway, I got him to change a light bulb so the trip was not in vain but the embarrassment, of course, was huge.
I am currently dealing with a bout of insomnia by staying up well past the witching hour watching TV. Last night I got to see the Saturday Night show again, to marvel again at the rapport between Darina and Rachel Allen and to wonder, again, at Darina’s dress. A bit colour-blind myself, but I could swear I saw purple dress and red stockings. Perhaps those are the colours for this winter. Even so she is a charming lady, very entertaining, very amusing - they both are.
I have to finish by calling to mind the kindness of readers of The Avondhu. Writing recently about depression, I have received a Mass card and lovely letter from a reader in Mogeely. Much appreciated, thanks Mary.
blog comments powered by Disqus