Looking back, there is absolutely no doubt in my mind—Alvin pushed me! And it was his last, most wonderful, unselfish gesture in that lifetime. Now that he was on the other side he could clearly see. Because he and I had this connection and because I had given him a chance at starting life over and I had believed in him, he was returning the favor.

I spent the next two and a half weeks flat on my back in a bed. Couldn’t even get up to pee. There was this contraption around my ankle and leg, up to my knee and it was hooked up to an igloo ice chest! No kidding! It circulated ice water 24/7 over the wound. I’d had surgery where they’d put two pins on the left side of the ankle and a seven inch plate with nine pins on the outside of the ankle and up my outer leg bone. 40 staples! The swelling was amazing. The hospital gave me a foam “bowling alley” to prop up my entire leg from the knee down so it would stay above my heart to reduce swelling.

OhMyGOD! Fred was beyond furious!

“You did this on purpose!” he yelled at me.

“On purpose, how could I possibly do something like this on purpose?”

“You didn’t want to work this weekend and you found a way out of it.”

Yeah, that’s rational—since I don’t want to work I think I’ll just shatter my ankle and force myself into nearly three weeks of bed rest followed by 12 weeks in a wheel chair, 4 weeks with a walker and another 2 weeks on crutches before I get the “walking cast. Oh, and I won’t be able to drive for six months, either. Yup, this is definitely “on purpose!”

He had to refill the ice chest three times a day with fresh ice—an entire bag of ice every eight hours. But he had a business to run and he had to do it without me. So since I’d done this “on purpose” he chose to not speak to me for the duration. Two and half weeks of no words, just grunts and glares. I’m in serious pain. I’m completely helpless, totally dependent. I had the portable phone and the TV remote, that was it. After four days I called the only person I felt I could impose on—our bookkeeper. She came over and found my stationery, hand sewing, and a few books and put them next to the bed for me. Pat, wherever you are, thank you very much. I am so grateful for your kindness. I know it put you in an awkward position with Fred. I’m sorry you had to be between us.

I had a lot of time to think. I thought about all that had happened since we moved to Ohio. This was the fifth major surgery in six and a half years. I had gone from being a mere secretary to being the production manager responsible for troubleshooting jobs and repairing equipment. (I cannot tell you how many times I found myself on the floor under the imagesetter in a $500 suit, on my back, in pantyhose, screw driver in hand. Sometimes I cursed my great mechanical abilities!) I thought about how after six and a half years I only knew the people I worked with, a handful of vendors, and Fred’s family. And he didn’t particularly care to associate with his family. I could certainly never count on any of them for assistance (or so it seemed). I had pined for Dallas, my family, and Texas for most of that time. I had no friends, no girlfriends, no network, no safety net. I was an island unto myself, especially since Fred refused to talk to me. Laying there in that bed, it became very, very clear that Dayton, Ohio was slowly but surely killing me. Physically, mentally, and spiritually. Thank you Alvin. If you hadn’t of pushed me, I would never have figured this out. Thanks for providing me with my Mac Truck so I could move forward rather than slowly dying.

to be continued...