Worries...

Last night I got a call from my mom. She said that my dad was at the hospital because my grandma (my dad's mom, and the only grandparent I have left on my side of the family) had fallen while she was cleaning her apartment. It looked like maybe she had broken her leg and/or her arm, and she was having some odd fluctuations in her heartbeat. They thought that might have been from the medication they gave her, however, because it hadn't been happening when she was brought in.

This morning I got an email from my mom. My grandma's leg isn't broken, but she fractured her arm up near her shoulder. She said they're going to do some tests on her heart just to be on the safe side, and if those come out all right, she'll be going back home today.

I hope her tests come out all right. The last leg of my other grandma's life began with a fall, and her best friend, my Aunt Ethel, is in a nursing home because of one. Both strong, vibrant ladies, brought low by something that seems so simple. My kids trip over their own feet and fall all the time, but they just get back up and keep on their merry way. It really puts life into perspective for me, that a broken bone can have such an effect on someone.