No, I don't want to think about it either...

My neighbor George fell down Sunday morning. He has figured out that if he presses his Lifeline thing to call the EMTs, that Lifeline company also calls one of his daughters and tells on him. He hates that. The EMTs also strongly suggest each time that he go to the hospital. He hates that as well.

So he calls me to come pick him up which is nearly impossible for one person. He is a big fellow. And his legs don't work well. Plus you're never sure if he has injured himself more severely than he is making out. But I went over and after considerable maneuvering, pushing and pulling, I got him  back into his recliner. He had also suffered an accident of a different type so I was anxious for him to get to the bathroom and clean himself up.

After that struggle, I suggested he call the EMTs since he was still dizzy and light headed any time he made an effort to stand. First he called a relative for a second opinion and the son-in-law on the phone said to go to the hospital. I put his dog out in the back yard and let the EMTs in the front door.

As he left in the ambulance, he asked me to take the dog and care for him while he was away. I reminded him I was leaving for Texas on Friday. I never have confessed to him just how allergic I am to dogs. Please remember that this is the same dog who has bitten me three times. By Sunday evening, my eyes were nearly shut tight. So I suggested to the lady who walks Riley that he sleep at George's house alone. She agreed and Riley seems fine.

I go feed him and take him home to my house around 5:30 each morning, George is a very early riser, and I then take Riley home and feed him again in the evening and let him sleep on George's bed.

George has called me each day to come and get him and each day, before I ever get to the hospital, they have told him he must stay another day. Yesterday they told him he had to go to a rehab place for awhile, two weeks or so. He's not happy but he agrees "these people" are trying to help him.

I talked with the oldest daughter last night in Texas and she agreed to try to find someone to look after the dog before I leave on Friday. She thanked me for helping and pointed out that George has refused her invitations to join her family in Texas. All of the 8 children and spouses work, have children of their own and 4 of them, George's own kids, live far, far away.

Like delivering Meals on Wheels, this episode causes me to think about what I want to have happen as I get older. Like George and my grandfather-in-law, Frank Crosby, I am tempted to say I want to stay in my lovely house until I die. And maybe that will happen. But I must remain flexible as well as cheerful whatever happens. Saying "with my boots on" only makes it tougher for everyone.