So… this week while wondering just exactly where all those the years have disappeared, I had a flash back in time when I found myself in the lift @ Auburn Hospital…. yep, my alma mater, (albeit a completely new creation in recent years). While it’s fresh look and fancy colours, bring it into the 21st century, there is something of its sole that seems to have changed…or maybe that’s just my sentimental longing for those years spent living there and morphing from a kid to a responsible (?) adult delivering babies and caring for the dying … LOL.
Anyway believe it or not, this story takes me to one of my earlier blog reflections “what are the chances”.
You see while in that lift on Wednesday, as I was being lulled into a coma by Richard Claderman (whatever did happen to ‘muzac’ in lifts?) … I spied the plaque telling me that this was a “Schindler’s” lift.
What’s THAT got to do with anything ? I hear you thinking…well here’s the segue.
Those of you that are regular readers, might recall my passing comment about tale of being stuck in a lift for 2 hours? … well THAT too was a Schindler’s lift. Now while I would never diminish the horror an atrocities captured in the movie Schindlers List, our lift story has been fondly recalled by that name. I have had a few requests to enlarge on some of my more bizarre life ‘coincidences’ …so this seems like a good place to start.
This story took place almost 4 years ago and one of the main players is an old workmate named Steve who I had not seen for many years. Steve had been a colleague on and off in a whole range of different nursing settings… It seemed that he was just one of those people that would pop in and out of my life when least expected. He was even the community nurse that cared for Michael’s Dad just before he died.
Anyway I hadn’t seen Steve for 15 years, and then one afternoon at a small research forum in the city there he was. We saw each other and had a very brief reunion over coffee and then said we would MAKE the time to chat after the day was over. Well…. talk about famous last words, we stepped into the (Schindlers) lift together, along with 11 others and it dropped half a floor before getting stuck for the next 2 hours.
While many of those around us were in a state of panic we had a lovely time catching up on 15 years worth of news. Now, while I wouldn’t recommend spending time in a confined place for ANY length of time, it was an interesting observation of human behaviour…and I can say I learned a lot about me, Steve and the colleagues and strangers that shared this airless, hot and poky place so intimately. Human observation is such a great teacher.
After our saga was over, having been released by the Police Rescue team (some 2 and a bit hours later), Steve and I said goodbye along with the obligatory “we must make time to catch up properly” …. Well that was 4 years ago, and our paths have not crossed again, but I have no doubt they will, someday when we least expect it.
The other part of this bizarre tale, was my “lift injury”… Having stood in a pair of high heeled boots the entire time without any relief (it was too cramped to bend and remove them) , I woke the following morning with pain in both of my calves. Feeling like I had run a marathon I managed the day at work and then headed off to Bras and Things to buy a new bra at the end of the day. While in the fitting room feet planted firmly on the ground, I turned to speak with the young attendant …and BANG I went down like a pile of bricks as my right calf gave way… and left me with a HUGE tear in my gastrocnemius (calf) muscle.
I don’t know about you, but I have never heard of a bra fitting injury quite like it. The moral of the story is don’t get stuck in a lift in high heels (unless you have a chair to sit on), and make sure you do a proper warm-up (or take a doctor) when you embark on any high risk retail therapy.
I might be 50 something (and a bit broken) …. but I’m not dead yet.
Wonder Years 