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So says Scott Kurtz, and he's right. Ethel Gibbs, the 100-year-old neighbor I've mentioned before, had a stroke Friday night. Her housekeeper Dora found her at the bottom of the stairs the next morning... and she hadn't pressed the "panic button" that was supposed to bring aid from neighbors and friends. Dora summoned her grandson, who is now a doctor, and they cleaned her up and called out the paramedics.
(Dora seems to have missed her calling as a forensic scientist. She reconstructed the accident that befell Ethel with the precision of
CSI and the storytelling energy of that psychologist at the end of
Psycho. She's nearing retirement age herself but as she says, "My husband says to me, maybe God meant for you to be around a 100-year-old woman. It'll give you wisdom, it'll make you strong." It's certainly made her strong-- stick of dynamite, that one.)
Ethel's doing pretty well right now... I'm visiting her this morning.
Daisy is also doing much better-- her appetite is back and she's excited to be going outside again. Taking her medicine is much easier for her when it's wrapped in little pieces of turkey.
Both of them have gotten through the scary part for now. But they're still older than they were yesterday.
I pet Daisy. I visit Ethel.
There is never enough time.