Oh, what a difference five minutes make. Check out the real Grace and Frankie.
Meet my sister. Of course, the gal on the right is my mother and former boss Frankie.
Why the masks? Well, it’s a long story …
But first, apologies for not sharing the teaser about that time that famous tv guy toddled into the shop and Francine didn’t … Hopefully I can get to it next Momday Motivations.
Today I’m impelled to share Francine’s unfortunate news.
Francine and I innocently went to the movies on Saturday afternoon.
I left her in the lobby after the movie and zipped to the car, which took me probably five, maybe six, minutes tops. As I pulled up to the curb I saw that my mother had not only moved outside but she had a knot of people clustered around her. That woman has a gift for making friends! She was probably sharing where she got her wondrous wheelie, or what she thought of the movie, or who sold her the cosy puffy jacket she was wearing.
But no. Sadly not.
“Kelly, you have to take me to Emergency right now. I’ve bashed my knee and it’s bleeding but the real problem is my back. I’ve never been in so much pain.”
The hovering angels chimed in.
“She was leaning against the sliding door and as it slid open she toppled right over.” “She’s hurt.” “Poor dear.”
I left her alone for five, maybe six minutes tops and the woman suddenly requires the ER?
Yes, as my sister-in-law would later aptly sum it up: “Just TypiKel.”
She’s A Tough Old Bird
One woman followed us to the car. “I’m so sorry, I couldn’t do more, I just got here.” What a gem. As Francine gingerly backed onto the passenger seat, she whipped the wheelie into the back and then cupped her hands on the window and yelled “I hope you’ll be okay!”
Everyone else waved with concern as we pulled away from the curb. But now wasn’t the time to think about their extraordinary kindness. It wasn’t time for emotion at all. My focus must be solely on getting my precious cargo to the hospital a good 15 minutes away.
This is the second hospital run I’ve had to make in the past six months. The last one was longer and less mysterious. I knew the problem as I witnessed Francine scraping her legs on the running board of my brother’s truck.
However, my mother’s response was exactly the same.
“I’m a tough old bird, Kel. I’ve never had such pain and I have probably punctured a lung, but I’ll be ok.”
Sweet Jesus. A punctured lung? I assessed her in a quick sidelong glance. Color? Remarkably good, considering. Airway? Shallow breaths but she could speak, so the shallowness must be due to excruciating pain.
“Now, Kelly, tell me about the bits I missed in the movie.”
I was determined to follow her lead and not cry and thankfully my voice held firm.
Check Out The Real Grace And Frankie
Once Mom got through admitting and was dispatched to the waiting room, it was time to bring the siblings into the loop. My brother was regretfully forced to stay home as he was “fluey” but my sister dropped everything.
We hung out for the next three hours amidst folks suffering from broken bones or the flu. If not for the grace of my sister, it would have passed ever so much slower. She was an absolute godsend, rustling up the masks and encouraging liberal use of the liquid disinfectant (“the last thing we need is a flu bug”) and distracting Francine with a novel game of “guess who.” Mom, flagging from pain and worry, would peer at Sis’s phone and perk up immediately as various great-grandchildren popped up on the screen. She correctly identified the majority of them.
After four hours, several x-rays and a consult with the radiography department at another hospital we finally had a diagnosis. Francine has two cracked ribs and a five-percent pneumothorax or collapsed lung. The lovely doctor’s advice is to carry on as normal and be kind to herself. Everything will heal in time.
“However will I shower?”
“Great question, Frankie. May I suggest that you step in and then slowly turn on the water taps. As the water comes out, you can gradually adjust the heat …”
Bless him. His gentle and humorous manner was just what she needed. We headed for home with a sore but grinning Francine.
I’ll leave you with this photo taken at the x-ray followup yesterday.
Frankie refused to put on the mask. Best not to tell our Grace.
Apologies to those expecting a rundown of the brilliant Netflix show. I’m loving it, but felt my followers would want to check out the real Grace and Frankie.