An unusual incident happened yesterday after church. A woman (member) fell down the back stairs.
The hubby and I have been members at this church for just over 6 years. D was a member there at that time, and I don’t know how long she had been a member there before we met her. She occasionally came to our “advanced” Bible Study that the hubby and I led. A few years ago, another member invited a few of us over for lunch one day, and D was among the guests. It was nice to get to know her better.
But a few years ago, she stopped attending, and I didn’t really follow up on the reasons. Not having a lot of energy or health, there were many things I just didn’t do. She told me yesterday she went through several hard things in her life, and she felt she needed to attend with her sister at the Pentecostal church for a time. She wandered away from God for a bit too, she said. But it was her son who invited her to come back to our church for Christmas Eve. She has been coming regularly ever since – and I, for one, have been happy to see her in our midst again.
Yesterday, after church, a bunch of us were standing around gabbing. The numbers thinned, and the hubby was working with the Choir Director on a few upcoming choir pieces. I didn’t know how long he would be, and I had basically spoken to everyone I wanted to. D had just headed down the hallway to the back door toward the parking lot. I decided I would sit in the lounge to wait for the hubby, so also walked down the hallway. I heard someone falling down the stairs, and wondered who it could be, but hurried to see if I could help. It was D.
My grandparents were members of the St. John’s Ambulance for a very long time, so when I was young, they taught me CPR, and made sure I had taken a couple of courses early in my life. There is a picture of me in the Stratford Beacon Herald from when I was 8, giving mouth-to-mouth to the training dummy. My grandparents had set up the session with my school. They volunteered regularly at the theatre and were well known for their work with the St. John’s Ambulance, and my relationship to them was mentioned in this article.
I think I’ve only taken one other course since then. But when I saw D on the floor at the bottom of the stairs, it all just seemed natural what I was to do. When we finally determined she was ready to sit up, I noticed she was bleeding. I found the spot and got it to stop. By this time, others came back to see what was going on, since I had told one person about it while I was running for paper towels. I asked another to phone 911, which he did and the EMS came very quickly.
While I was tending to D, she kept insisting (not very vigorously) that she was OK, and she would just drive home. I asked (although I was pretty sure of the answer) if she lived alone, and when she said yes, I said, you’ve hit your head. You might be fine now, but what happens if it gets more serious once your home and you can’t get help. I firmly but gently insisted she go to the hospital. Once there, she told me later, a nurse was very firm in telling her that if anything like this ever happened again, she MUST go to the hospital.
Once D got home from the hospital, she called to thank me for all I did for her. Particularly, she thanked me for insisting she go to the hospital and not drive home. I appreciated that. I didn’t need to hear it, but it’s nice to be appreciated. And it made me think about some things. Many people are so insistent for their “rights,” there is no telling them or doing for them what is best when their judgment may not be at its best. If I had let D have her way, she would have gone home and not had the two staples to close the wound. Everything turned out well, but it could have been very bad. She could have continued to bleed, or had a concussion and fallen into a coma. This is where her “rights” would have gotten her. But in “caring” for her, I could not let her take that chance. I had to impose my will on her for her own safety and well-being.
Our country leans pretty far into socialist territory – government paying for many things. However, I wish some things could be a little different. For instance, those who need psychiatric care do not always find such care. If they are admitted by someone else, like an attending physician, they can be kept indefinitely. However, if they admit themselves, they can leave at any time, whether they are well or not. Many get feeling better with medication, so they leave, and then stop the medication. And this is where the trouble begins. Politicians have wrestled with the balance between protecting these people from themselves and their flawed decisions, and tramping on their rights.
One of our former pastors shared with us some Canadian history. Apparently, in the early days, it was the church that started hospitals, psychiatric hospitals, and prisons. It was the church as part of its ministry and caring for people that made sure people were well before releasing them from these institutions. There was a love factor in this, and a caring for those weaker members of society. At some point, the government took over these functions, and with the increased demands for individual rights, this loving, caring administration fell by the wayside. So now, whether sick or healthy, we all just fend for ourselves, and reap whatever consequences come our way.
D and I chatted about how we could see God’s hand in this event. Had I continued standing with the others, I would not have heard her fall. Even if I had been in the lounge, I probably would not have heard. The EMTs said the timing of our call was perfect. The station is just a few doors up the street, and they had just come back from another call. These things helped to keep D from making a bad decision and just getting into her car and driving home. And through this event, she said she felt very loved.
Until next time, take very good care of each other…
