A not-so-ordinary day

After a bit of a long night, with both boys awake and crying a couple of different times, morning came with a terrible lack of enthusiasm. I had planned out my morning very precisely before going to bed, reviewed it with Marc so he would be on board with my plans, and felt sure it would all go smooth as buttah.

While I was grinding my wheat (to make a batch of whole wheat bread), I decided to grind a little extra to make some whole wheat pancakes for my boys. So, I got the pancakes mixed up while waiting for the yeast to get all frothy like it's supposed to, then had Marc step in to finish flipping the pancakes while I added in a few more ingredients to the bread dough. Then, Marc and the boys had breakfast while I headed out the door on my morning run, which I was actually pretty excited about since the skies above were clear of clouds and rain, leaving the air clean and fresh.

I had anticipated rain this morning, so being out without the rain had me on cloud nine. I was making great time, running at about an 8-minute pace. I went on my favorite four-mile loop that starts off taking me through the neighborhoods at the foot of the west hills that leads me passed old Victorian-style homes and quiet streets, then I wind down toward the center of downtown and passed this local bakery that tricks me into thinking I'm back in Modena and craving those darn bombolas (a doughnut of sorts that is filled with Nutella or Creme) that we'd eat after teaching English class. Then, I eventually wind back up to the second main drag in my small town and back home.

Well, just as I was passing mile three, there was an older woman out on her morning walk up ahead of me, coming toward me. I was running in the bike lane and when she saw me, she went to move up to the sidewalk. Everything happened so fast that I'm not sure exactly what happened, but all of sudden she was down on the sidewalk, hitting her head hard enough that one of the lenses of her sunglasses was knocked right out of the frames.

I ran right to her and helped her to a sitting position. She was clearly in shock and feeling a little embarrassed. As I tried to reassure her and assess the situation, blood started trickling down the left side of her face, where she had fallen. I don't do so well with blood or emergency-like situations. Just ask Marc. On the few somewhat serious situations we've been in with the boys and their accidents, I am quite the sight. I can't help but laugh out loud at the replays I do in my mind of those moments, watching myself go into full panic mode... nearly hyperventilating at the slightest hint of blood.

There I am wiping her dripping blood with my hands, trying to figure out what I can use to stop the cut on her temple from bleeding. I didn't have anything. I almost stripped off my shirt. That was (thankfully) when I saw an older gentleman just about to go into a doctor's office right in front of us. I called to him, "Can you grab us some tissues?" He sort of nodded, a little confused, and continued with his cute old man meander. Remember, I'm in panic mode and just about jumped up and sprinted passed him in my anxious state of trying to clearly save this poor woman's life. That was about when I noticed more blood is now coming from a cut on the bridge of her nose.

In the meantime, my new friend remembered she had a kleenex in her jacket pocket. But, turns out she couldn't unzip it because of how she fell on her wrist, so I helped her with the zipper and we finally got the bleeding under control, when a nurse and a doctor come out from their office. After a brief conversation with them, the sweet little lady decided she just needs to walk back home and then find a way to the hospital to get her wrist checked out. She never did accept my offer to walk with her, insisting she was "just fine and not dizzy at all."

There was no way I was going to let her walk, what turned out to be, almost a mile back to her house. I was going in that direction anyway, so we walked arm-in-arm making small talk the whole way, talking about her grown children and grandchildren, her husband who passed away last year, and a mutual friend of us both who had a similar fall on the same street while out on her morning walk not too long ago. Crazy small world. And, apparently some crazy dangerous sidewalk on that street.

In the end, I got her safely to her house with a plan in place to call her daughter for a ride to the hospital. Upon returning home I had forgotten about my rising bread dough that Marc had appropriately (at my instruction) beaten down (twice) when it had gotten too big, which for some reason made my bread loaves very deflated and ugly-looking. I just have to remind myself when I see it sitting all ugly on my countertop that it still tastes good and that having ugly-looking bread isn't the worst thing to deal with. (or is it? I'm still trying to convince myself... )

Later in the afternoon, when there was a break in the storm, I took the boys out on a walk and decided to drop by the lady's house to check in on her. That was when our day got even more exciting....