Quite by chance this morning I decided to get my hair cut. Knowing that the place I normally go wouldn’t be open until at least 9am, I completed the school run with W. Normally I would have made my exit at the eldest’s school, but today I continued on to the younger children’s school.
It was a good job I did.
As we neared the primary school, a bewildered old lady walked from her house shouting for help. I immediately dropped the mountain bike on the footpath, and found myself walking up the stairs of her house accompanied by another Dad.
Her elderly husband had fallen over, and couldn’t get up. He lay half in the bedroom, half in the hallway, not moving. What followed was probably textbook first aid, but in reality improvised.
“Hello, what’s your name?”
“Before we move you, does it really hurt a lot anywhere?”
“Ok. We’re going to slowly lift you up to a sitting position - if anything hurts at all, tell us, and we’ll stop immediately.”
Slowly and gently, we lifted him up, and a walking frame appeared from nowhere. He then volunteered that he had just come out of hospital, after collapsing. I asked his wife if she had called a doctor, or an ambulance. No, she had not, but she might call her daughter who lives in the next town.
She paced between rooms, repeating “I don’t know if I’m coming or going! I don’t know if I’m coming or going!”. I’m guessing she was pretty scared.
By now we had him sat on the edge of the bed, and he began repeating that he felt like “such a fool”. Getting anything more constructive out of him wasn’t looking fruitful.
It was strange; leaving the house to continue on with the school run felt like abandoning them to an extent - the other Dad stayed behind (after getting the old man up, we were getting in each other’s way). I’m hoping he made the call to the doctor’s surgery himself, rather than continuing to persuade the elderly couple.
The old couple have been playing on my mind this morning - his shame at needing help, and her confusion and panic in the situation she found herself.