Last week during my MFA residency I decided to skip one of the evening readings. Unfortunately Sandra Alcosser, Valerie Miner and David St. John were no match for the migraine threatening to ruin my night. I thought some food might help, so I headed for Pizza Schmizza.
Pizza box in hand, I retraced my steps toward campus. On the corner of Pacific Ave, a woman was lying on the sidewalk while another held a cell phone out above her. At first I wondered if they were enacting a scene for a photograph because the woman standing didn’t seem too distressed. “Is she ok?” I asked.
“No,” said the woman with the phone. I could see she was frazzled as I came closer.
From my perspective I could only see the woman’s back, but as I came around to her other side, I saw the pool of blood that spread out from her face. Pizza box and bag on the ground, I knelt and asked if I could help. “Have you called 911?” I asked the other woman. She dialed and I forced kleenex onto the only wound I could see. I laughed to myself thinking how Forest Grove was kind of like wilderness, so my wilderness advanced first aid training would be appropriate. I kept one hand on her back, assuring her of my presence, and asked her what had happened.
Of course, Forest Grove actually has an emergency response team that arrived in minutes. Apparently, the women were coming out of a church meeting when the older of the two tripped and fell, smashing her cheek on the cement and knocking out a tooth. As I spoke to other meeting attendees who were then congregated on the corner, I learned that Lois, the woman who fell, was 101 years old. Wow! The whole time I was with her she was perfectly coherent and more concerned about keeping her face and hair out of the blood on the sidewalk.
I have a pretty good feeling that she will be just fine, but I was glad to be there to offer a hand.