Dealt: (v) the result of an action of what was distributed or apportioned
Prostrate on the floor, short moments after tipping on my walker and falling, I was suddenly accosted with the reality of trying to get up.
I thought about all the times that people had joked, “I’ve fallen and I can’t get up…”
Every time I saw one of those commercials, I was cynical, not believing there could be a situation where a human would be unable to, as they say, rise to the occasion.
I was not injured.
I was just in a predicament where the assets available to me—the lack of strength in my upper body and the faltering of my legs, were threatening to hold me in my original splat.
I was not angry. I was not upset.
Dripping with sweat, I continued to try to disprove what my brain had already explained to me as my reality.
“You will need help.”
For today, this was what I was dealt.
I was moving along with my walker, on my way to my music room to write to you and to compose my thoughts for the day.
Then I wasn’t.
Normalcy was gone. For the first time in a long time, the weaker portions of my human existence had taken over, demanding attention and insisting on leaving me vulnerable.
I tried for half an hour.
Candidly, the attempts to lift myself and eliminate the problem were much more painful than the fall.
Those beautiful souls who are my family stood by, not knowing what to do, perhaps full of ideas, but intelligent enough not to turn the project into a committee effort.
This is my status:
- Life gave me a brain—I developed the ability to write.
- I persisted in singing until it was stageable.
- I played piano.
- I wrote symphonies.
- I penned thirteen independent movies.
I can’t get up off the floor.
Today, this was included.
Not despaired nor frustrated–more curious how this tale would unfold, and where there would be a happy end.
After tossing it around in my mind from one brain cell to another, I finally surrendered to the need for outside help.
We called the fire department and in less than five minutes, four eager, young, willing, kind, docile and caring young men walked through the door.
It took about five minutes and they had me standing back on my feet and then sitting in my wheelchair.
I bypassed embarrassment and went to gratitude.
I kicked discouragement out the door and embraced humor.
There was a moment in the room when achievement was celebrated, and we all felt better for being part of a winning cause.
You can spend your life hoping for better cards.
Or you can work with what you’ve been dealt.