Morning Drama

     I arrived at the YMCA this morning, happy that for once I was on time for my water aerobics class.
I live about seven minutes away, and as a result have this overly optimistic idea of how long it takes me to get there. If I had to travel a half hour I’d probably arrive promptly before class every time. 

          I waved my bar code tag in front of the machine and started down the short hallway to the ladies’ locker room. There in front of me was a person lying face down on the floor. My first thought was that this was an over-enthusiastic member doing some sort of weird stretching or Pilates. But why in the hallway?

          A closer look told me that this person was in trouble. I realized she was the small older woman who would always come a little late to class, walking with very small and very careful steps to the pool. 

          I called for help from the desk (which I must say could have done less peering over the counter and more running) and finally we had people in charge. Someone turned her gently over, revealing a pool of blood worthy of any crime scene on TV. I returned to the desk, telling them to call 911. 

          She was in more official hands than mine so I continued on to my class. We later learned from some of her friends who had been helping her that her husband had been called and she was on her way to the hospital. They also relayed the information that she protested she was all right. 

          It seems she has Parkinson’s and may have lost her balance. 

          I was glad to see that those of us in the class continued on after discussing the whole thing briefly.  I didn’t experience the vulture-like interest you sometimes see when people get too fascinated with someone else’s misfortune. 

          Ironically, I now know the name of several very nice ladies with whom I’ve exchanged conversations anonymously for years.