Pick Up from a Fractured Hip
An Unexpected Grace
Your hear-and-read option:
Listen to Agnes’s story as you read it (below).
Agnes folded her hands to feel the warmth of her hospital bed’s sheets. She gazed at her room’s single window. Rain lashed against the glass, mirroring the storm brewing inside her.
Two weeks ago, a seemingly innocuous trip to the grocery store had ended in disaster. A rogue puddle, disguised by a careless pedestrian, had sent her sprawling onto the slick pavement. The result: a fractured hip and a forced residency in this sterile, impersonal room.
"Feeling better, Agnes?" inquired Nurse Millie, her voice a gentle counterpoint to the somber, bland room.
Agnes managed a weak smile. "A bit stiff but better than being stuck on the floor, I suppose."
The fall had shaken her confidence. Once a vibrant woman, a gardener extraordinaire and a formidable bridge player, she now felt fragile, her independence shattered. The thought of returning home, of navigating the stairs, of reaching for a jar of pickles, filled her with a dread she couldn't quite shake off.
Days turned into a monotonous routine of physiotherapy, bland hospital meals, and endless hours staring out the window. Loneliness, a constant companion, gnawed at her. Her husband, Arthur, visited faithfully, but Agnes sensed a growing weariness in his eyes, a burden she didn't want to add to his own aging shoulders.
One afternoon, a young man, his face etched with concern, sat down beside her. "Hi, Agnes, I'm Ben. I'm a volunteer with the hospital's music therapy program."
Agnes, initially hesitant, found herself drawn to Ben's easy charm and the gentle melody he coaxed from his guitar. He played folk songs, old standards, even a few lively tunes that made her toes tap involuntarily.
As the weeks passed, Ben became a regular visitor. He brought laughter, stories, and a much-needed sense of normalcy to Agnes's days. He encouraged her to sing along, to tap her feet, to rediscover the joy of movement.
One day, while playing a lively Irish jig, Ben noticed a hesitant smile playing on Agnes's lips. "You know," he said, "you've got a good voice, Agnes."
Agnes, surprised, chuckled. "I haven't sung in years."
"You should sing more," Ben encouraged. "It's good for the soul."
And so, Agnes began to sing. At first, it was just a few hesitant notes, a whisper against the silence. But gradually, her voice grew stronger, richer, filled with a newfound confidence.
“I sound like Bob Dylan,” Agnes one day offered. “That guy could never sing.”
“He’s more like a poet,” Ben admitted. “When you’re into lyrics, your sound can be.secondary.”
The day she was finally discharged, Agnes felt a pang of sadness. She would miss Ben, his music, the unexpected joy he had brought to her life.
But as she stepped out of the hospital doors, the fresh air filling her lungs, she realized that the fall, the broken hip, the forced confinement, had led her to an unexpected gift: a renewed sense of self, a rediscovery of her voice, and a friendship that bloomed in the most unlikely of circumstances.
Happenstance, she realized, could be cruel, but it could also be surprisingly gracious. The fall, a seemingly catastrophic event, had opened a door to a new chapter, a chapter filled with music, friendship, and a newfound appreciation for the simple joys of life.
Here is this story’s discussion question: When did you develop a skill that now continues to make your life enjoyable?
Also hear and read Agnes’s “parent story” from 2024
Go to “Sam Meets Happenstance.”
Here’s to mature-adult living!
Jim Hasse, ABC, GCDF retired, author of “52 Shades of Graying”
Sharing our Insights Each Week as We Discover New Shades of Aging
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In third grade, I remember struggling with my multiplication tables and couldn’t remember that three times nine was 27.
Miss Van Tassel and Miss McKillip, both blessed with hearty laughter, teamed up to help me never to forget that three times nine was 27.
It became our comic routine. In the hallway, at lunch or in therapy at Washington Orthopedic School, I would suddenly be quizzed by the staff people, “Jim, what are three times nine?” I would proudly answer, “27,” and everyone would laugh, including myself.
I was learning how to NOT take myself too seriously – to laugh with others about my unique quirks, shortcomings and capabilities.
Learning how to fall back on humor at the right time and in the right way has served me well during not-so-easy times.
* When did you develop a skill that now continues to make your life enjoyable?