What holds us close?

I sat down on the dining chair with a sigh of relief. I’d had country visitors for nearly three hours that afternoon and after stacking the dishwasher, I needed a rest.

Suddenly, a cramp gripped my left leg, the stronger one. I was no stranger to cramps but they usually occurred at night and there was something different about this one. To ease my stiffness, I attempted to stand. The instant I put pressure on my left leg, pain shot up my sciatic nerve into my hip. I sat down quickly. I tried again a few minutes later but still couldn’t put any pressure at all on that leg. My right leg is extremely weak so I’ve always feared something happening to my stalwart left leg. I would be in real trouble then.

Walking was out of the question, because I couldn’t even get to the first base of standing. I stayed seated and massaged my leg, attempting to stretch it out, thinking about my situation. My iPad was on the table, so I Googled ‘cramps in the sciatic nerve’. The advice was reassuring – do the usual things and it would resolve in time.

 I needed to get my tablets for cramps which were upstairs. Pain relievers like Panadol and Nurofen were several steps away in the kitchen cupboard. A wheat bag was on my electric chair in the opposite direction. Reaching any of these things required me to stand and to walk, even just a few steps. I felt helpless, trapped at my own dining table.

At 6 pm the air-conditioner switched on and I was glad that I’d had it scheduled to do so automatically. At least I’d keep warm! My next-door neighbours were in America for a month visiting their son and his family. I missed them in many ways, none more so than this night.

Twenty minutes later, I was no better. My daughter was away snow boarding so I rang her ex-husband E who lives nearby. No answer so I tried my grandson Cass. His dad was in the bath because he’d hurt his back, but Cass would tell him I needed them both to come over.

In the meantime, I phoned the pharmacist a couple of blocks away. They organised a hire wheelchair ready for pick up – $20 for a week.

Cass and his dad arrived within minutes and I felt better immediately with them in the room, if a bit foolish. Cass knows where everything is in the house, born of his lifetime of familiarity. He hurried off to rummage for cramp tablets in my drawers upstairs – he knew about these, because it had been his job to split them in half from time to time. E found the painkillers and brought me water. The wheat bag went in the microwave. Though still at the dining table and unable to stand, I felt so much better within myself as I swallowed pills and eased the wheat bag under me.

There’s something about the presence of other people, their voices and the warmth of their bodies charging the energy of a room, that is comforting in a way that cannot be described. It can only be felt.

E and Cass went off to the chemist and were soon back with the manual wheelchair. I’ve been interested in trying a wheelchair in my house, as I had foreshadowed something like this happening. I would soon find out that it was clunky and a bit hard to manage but did the job. My priority was to get to the toilet and then to my electric chair where I would remain safe and comfortable until the cramp eased.

My helpers went off home, planning to return at 8 and help me into bed. E wanted to bring me a meal, but my appetite had deserted me.

Within an hour or so, I was able to stand, first tentatively and then more confidently. In time I pushed my walker to the kitchen and made tea and toast. By 8 pm, I felt able to get myself to bed without assistance.

Since that strange event, I have reflected on who we intuitively call in an emergency, especially one that might involve intimate care.

My daughter and her ex-husband co-parent their two boys and maintain a generally well-functioning family unit, which embraces their extended families. They have been generous in welcoming Ken and I to share in bringing up their boys, now grown.

As he organised things for me that evening, I thought of the capable and caring father E was to his sons, especially when they were small and needed so much practical attention.

I remembered too my visits from Ballina to Newcastle in those early years, helping them all.

I remembered seeing the lives of this little family laid bare, in the items of clothing I pegged on their clothesline, folding and sorting them at the end of the day.

And as these memories surface, my heart fills with warmth and gratitude – for families in all their guises, for people with whom we share history, for people we trust to care for us, as we have for them.

Image courtesy of beastorchen, Pixabay