My mother calls my brother in law Dr. Ron, on the phone.
“I think I’m having a stroke,” she says. “Can you come over?”
Dr. Ron flies out his door like he’s being sprayed by a strong water hose.
My mother is in her middle 80’s and Ron considers her his mother.
When he arrives at her crappy mobile home, he practically throws himself through the ratty screen door.
“Margaret!” he yells. “Margaret!”
Ron is spinning around in the front part of the trailer and through the kitchen, making a circle back into the living room.
He looks up and there is Mother bumping along down the hallway toward him. She lurches sideways and hits one wall, rights herself and bangs hard on the opposite wall. Then, whoops, she’s almost down flat on the floor and up, again. Now, she’s on her hands and knees.