164. On the Floor
When my mother was in her late sixties, she was a little over-weight and had very arthritic knees. She lived in an apartment by herself in Indianapolis, Indiana. Her best friend, Carol, would call her every morning and if she didn’t answer, Carol would call the super of the building.
He would go to Mother’s apartment and try to open the door. If she had put the night chain on, then he would get the tools to cut through that. He would find that Mother had fallen and was on the floor. She was always just fine, but she couldn’t get up by herself once she had fallen. When all that was happening, I decided that I would get up and down off the floor every day of my life.
Mama died when she was 74. Now I am 79, and I do it. I get up and down off the floor every single day. It’s not always graceful, but I can do it. Usually I do it as a natural part of the exercises that I do each day, but if I skip the exercises, I still get down on the floor and then get up again.
It’s a skill I am determined to not lose.
