By Neena Strichart,
Publisher
I’m writing this Tuesday evening and already I’ve had a wild week.
After a busy day at work on Monday, our staff writer Nick Diamantides and I stopped for a bite to eat and then headed to the Carpenter Center of the Performing Arts to attend a lecture and book signing by former CIA agent Valerie Plume Wilson. Her address of the near-capacity crowd was riveting. I don’t know about the other folks in the audience–but I hung on her every word. Listening to her was surreal at times because it is difficult to fathom the training this dainty-appearing young woman had to/chose to endure.
After leaving the lecture I went home and went threw scads of e-mails in all of our company mailboxes and then hit the hay.
Steve and I awoke to the ringing phone before 7 a.m. Tuesday morning. In our house early or late phone calls rarely mean good news. Sure enough, it was my mother. She had fallen and needed me to come help her assess the damage–we both figured she’d need to go to the hospital.
I threw on a collection of clothing items that were not my best fashion statement and high-tailed it up to her place. Using my key I went in and found her clutching her arm. I was sure she had broken it. I helped her change clothes and we dialed for 911 to come help with the diagnosis and to basically “drive the bus.” The paramedics were a great bunch of fellows and, it turns out, I was already acquainted with two of them.
We hit the emergency room at Memorial Hospital just a few minutes later and were immediately assigned to a spacious curtained room. Once Mom was settled in, the teamwork of the staff was practically a blur. Those folks flew through there like ballet dancers. Within a short few hours, Mom had blood work, a CAT scan, x-rays and a diagnosis. Yep, she fractured her clavicle and will be wearing a sling for a while. Luckily she lives at Bixby Towers and will be taken care of nicely. I have no worries.
Once I had her back home and settled, I headed to work for a couple of hours. I tore through my duties like mad. By 3 p.m. I stranded my staff to go home and rest for a bit before attending the Long Beach City Council meeting where Steve and I, along with dozens of others, were to receive a community award from 7th district Council Member Tonia Reyes Uranga. It was a lovely affair and we feel honored to have been included.
And now… I’m writing this. I can only hope my week, as well as my mother, settles down.
