Two Crises, Narrowly Avoided

Val is living on borrowed time! She could have perished, twice, in the last couple of days! Yes, I have a tendency to wax overly-dramatic. But this is serious. I could have died!

Friday, I came out of the Gas Station Chicken Store and walked to my rightful parking space, the handicapped spot. I clicked T-Hoe's clicker to unlock the door. Pulled on that flip-up door handle, and was almost catapulted backward onto the blacktop pavement! You know how it is. You brace yourself for the motion, pulling open the door. But my hand slipped off the door handle as I pulled on it. That sent me rocking onto my heels. Heels which do not react in a timely manner. Heels stuck on the pavement, unable to take a step back and regain balance. 

I thought I was a goner! Falling back, lying on the pavement in the 18-degree weather, with the below-zero wind chill. Just lying there, my body heat dissipating into the blacktop, unable to right myself, while an occasional customer might not notice, nor want to get involved. And even if they DID want to help, it would have taken a team of paramedics to right my ample rumpus. Who knows the response time on such a frigid day.

Thankfully, I threw myself forward with a hand on T-Hoe, and didn't topple backwards. I tried again, got the door open, and hauled myself inside. My heart was pounding, thinking about what could have happened.

But wait! The Universe was obviously set on killing off Val this week. Because the very next day, I almost froze to death before leaving home. You know how you get your routine? Same thing every day. I grab my purse off the kitchen table. Pick up my banana peel from breakfast/lunch. Loop my metal water bottle over my right index finger. Hold the Jack and Scarlett treats of stale bread with my finger and thumb while tossing the banana peel off the back porch with my left hand.

Well. My routine was disrupted by the extreme cold, and the additional step of picking up my gloves. I had stuffed them down my shirt, so my body heat would warm them on my way to the garage. I'd turned the little button on the doorknob that locks the door. I started out, but something felt wrong. My right arm was not heavy enough.

OH! My purse was not on it! I was thisclose to slamming the door, which would have been locked. And my purse would have still been inside on the kitchen table, holding my keys, and my cell phone. I'd have been locked out in the teenish temperatures, no way to call Hick, no way to warm myself while waiting for a rescue. I suppose I would have needed to walk "next door" and see if our neighbor was home to call Hick. That would have taken about 20 minutes, in the frigid temperatures. Thank goodness I notice my missing purse before closing that door!

This is no temperature for old women.