Simple act, isn't it, to hop out of bed and patter off to the facilities. You just roll over a bit, slipped the legs off the edge and stand.
Except I couldn't move. I tried kicking my legs over, but there was no kick in them and I couldn't do a sit up for anything.
I was stuck on my back like the poor proverbial turtle.
I finally decided maybe I could slide off on my knees and push myself up from that position. It was the wrong assumption. I just ended up sliding off the bed to fall flat on my face upon the floor. I had fallen and I couldn't get up. I began crawling toward the bathroom, pulling myself inch by inch very slowly toward that place. I didn't make it. I was part way through the bathroom door when I felt my shorts grow very wet.
I began screaming for help. Eventually, my wife heard my cries and came to investigate and between she and my daughter, got me up on my feet.
Somewhat later, perhaps the next morning, I get confused on the exact timing of all that happened, but I did get into the bathroom. Even though this was another urination situation, I thought I better sit on the toilet to be safe because I felt so shaking. I sat down and immediately slid off the seat to the right. Part of my lower half remained part way on the seat, but my upper half went into the bathtub. I was now in this jackknife position with the top of my head resting on the tub floor.
And I couldn't budge. I could not push myself up. I began my plaintive cries for help again, unfortunately I had locked both bathroom doors and my wife could not get in. I could not reach the locks from my odd position. It seemed as if doom was lurking. With a great effort, and I am sure the help of God, I somehow managed to get myself out of the tub and on to the floor where I could crawl over and unlock a door.
So we called the Doctor and he said to go to the emergency ward.
Just as we were ready to leave we hear some growling and realize Sara is out, but Flacco is, too. Flacco goes after Sara. I step in and try to move Flacco back to my daughters room, but he reaches up and grabs my right wrist with his paws and kerplop, he pulls me right down to the floor. You have to realize this is one big cat, a Siberian Forest Cat. He is huge and he has me down and is attacking my arm, which he tore up pretty well.
My wife, with the help of a broom, manages to get him back into my daughters room, but now we are faced with getting me off the floor again, where I'm flopping about like a newly landed fish. While she is backing our wildcat down the hallway, I somehow get a hold of a kitchen chair and manage to climb up its legs to a seated position. Yay! I actually have gotten upright, maybe the worse of all this is behind me.
I to to my feet, grabbed a walker and we shakily went out to the car. The walker had been down in the storage room, expecting not to see it again. It had come our way earlier in the year when my wife had a knee replaced. I wasn't having any knee needs, but my legs had deserted me and I thought this would steady me.
Little did I know, as my wife drove out I-95 toward the hospital, that the worse lay ahead.