Surreal Experience: A Fall in Chicago   

I’m selling Lois’ book, Marv Taking Charge, A Story of Bold Love and Courage, at Printers Row in Chicago. Lois couldn’t sell her own books because two days earlier, she tripped on an uneven sidewalk, and landed face down in the street, knocking herself out.

At the last minute, I decided to join Lois in Chicago where we had first met over 50 years ago. Since we now live in different states we try to meet yearly. She came to Chicago specifically to sell her new book at the annual Printers Row Lit Fest. Also, we would have three days to enjoy each other’s company and play the tourist role at the Taste of Chicago, the Architectural boat tour and have a meal at a few of our favorite restaurants.

We met at O’Hare airport on a Thursday, took the El to Michigan Avenue and ambled north toward our hotel. Lois received a new hip a year ago. Complications from a previous hip surgery caused a fractured femur. After months of pain, and physical therapy, she now walked down Michigan Avenue without a cane, pulling a suitcase loaded with books, feeling great. When Lois’ suitcase began to weigh her down, we decided to take the bus the rest of the way to our hotel. At the bus stop, Lois rushed out to the curb to see if our bus was coming. In her haste, she tripped on the broken sidewalk and propelled herself with force, face first onto the street.

I’ve been retired from nursing for over 20 years, but that familiar high alert mode washed over me immediately. My senses were heightened. I felt in control. Although Lois had lost consciousness, her back was rising and falling with regular breaths. Blood slowly oozed from alongside of her face. Facial injuries bleed profusely. I turned to the man behind me and asked him to call 911. Another man offered to stand facing the cars racing on Michigan Avenue to stop them from turning toward the curb and running over Lois. I shooed away a woman who wanted to help me lift her.

As Lois began to move and moan, I whispered in her ear to lie still. “You fell. Help is on the way. You’ll be alright.” I truly believed that she would be okay. Denial that this fall might be fatal kept me functioning.

A fire truck came first. Two firemen rolled Lois over, and onto a stretcher, and brought her inside the truck. After a while, one of the firemen came out to tell me that an ambulance was coming to bring her to Northwestern Hospital. I was welcome to ride along—my first ride in an ambulance.

Lois was treated in the emergency room. While the medical staff attended to Lois’ injuries, I attempted to notify her son and daughter of the accident. When sufficiently patched up in the ER, we spent the night in an observation unit.

Lois’ injuries were substantial. The next day she was discharged with stitches that closed a large gash over her right eye, and a cast on her left arm for a fractured wrist. She also had a broken nose, chipped front teeth, a fractured rib, and multiple contusions to her right hand.  

We decided to stay in the hotel room and leave as we had planned on the following Monday. Lois’ daughter was able to move her plane departure to line up with mine so we could both travel to O’Hare together.

I took her place Saturday at the annual Printers Row Lit Fest. Luckily, one of Lois’ former nursing students, in town with a friend for a Chicago weekend, had checked in to see where she could find Lois at Printers Row. With compromised fingers, Lois had texted back, “Call my daughter.” Hearing the news, she and her friend immediately came to stay with Lois while I left her for the first time since the accident.

I pulled her suitcase with 20 books alongside the row of tents on Dearborn Avenue. The Chicago Writers Association had a tent where Lois had rented a spot that I would share with two other authors.

The sun shone as the Chicago wind whipped the table coverings and blew books to the ground. Crowds of people passed the booth. For the next two and a half hours, I collared a few to tell them about the book. Some stayed a while and talked about the sad shape of health care today and some took Lois’ business card. At the end of my allotted time, I wended my way to Michigan Avenue to catch a cab to the hotel, lugging the heavy suitcase filled with the same number of books I had brought with me to the Lit Fest—minus one.

Lois came to Chicago to sell her books. Instead, she survived a devastating fall, was cooped up in a hotel room with pain, leaking ice packs, and poor internet reception. Over the three days we relived the accident. It still seemed surreal to us. Lois had no recollection of the fall. I had flashbacks of her sailing through the air and landing with a splat on the Chicago asphalt. Believe it or not, we laughed over many of the grim moments. Both nurses, we have an inbred sense of gallows humor. Selling one book didn’t cause complaint from Lois. Nor did either of us miss going on our planned excursions.

Lois said, “I’m grateful that the fall didn’t cause more damage.”

So am I.