WHY ANYONE OVER 70 SHOULD OWN AN APPLE WATCH!

   Easy for me to say, right? These babies ain't cheap! I ordered one in the summer of 2019 after I had had two falls while gardening outside. Thankfully, in one I did not hit the side of the cedar raised bed, and in the other, I collapsed onto the mulch. All of this was due to the as-yet un-diagnosed Dysautonomia, mine being OH, or Orthostatic Hypotension, meaning my blood supply does not react fast enough to  changes in levels, hence--fainting. This was a result of cancer surgeries and chemo.

 I had read that Apple Watches had a fall sensor and alert on them and thought to myself, "Baby, you'd better get one of these immediately!" 

And so I did, never regretting it and upgrading about a year ago. Anyone who has a tendency to fall, gets dizzy, has issues with heart rate and blood pressure, would be well-advised to get one.

 Every so often the watch will go into alarm phase, saying, "Did you fall? Are you ok?" when I may have hit the watch on the kitchen counter. Then I press, "No, I did not fall and I am ok."

 But a week past, I had a bad accident on the front deck when I tripped over a combined broom and small shovel (trying to pick up dog poop) and crashed onto the deck. That was the most awful feeling as I hurtled downwards 

thinking, "Shit, I am in for it! No way to stop." I fell on my chin, gashing it (requiring stitches at hospital) and dislocating my right shoulder. My watch went into the stratosphere signaling, "Did you fall? Are you ok? We are calling the EMTs." Luckily, Rick got out right way and turned it off. But see what I mean? What if Rick had not been there? The watch would have sent the First Responders dashing up our steep steps to the deck to help. Thank God. These people are the very best.

  Needless to say, a dislocated shoulder is wildly, insanely, wickedly painful--right up there with childbirth and a knee replacement.

 The responders assessed me (got there in 5 minutes), stabilized my neck, slid a board beneath me, strapped me to a stretcher, and carried me down our horrible stairs into the ambulance. 

There the EMT, Dave (I love that man!) checked me, hooked me up to an IV, and started some ketamine to take the edge off of my pain. Did not do t'job. We set off to local hospital with me sobbing, doing Lamaze breaths, and shouting the Rosary to help. It did a bit. We had to stop a few times on the way so dear Dave could give me more ketamine (Did you know that this particular drug also can be used with treatment-resistant depression?).

 Once in the hospital, they cut off my wonderful L.L.Bean down coat and top clothing. Down feathers flew about the ER room, and folks coming in would joke, "What are you doing, setting up a chicken farm?" Ha ha ha. They gave me fentanyl (all of the great street drugs!) in an IV, but it didn't really help. 

Not until this fabulous, kind doctor, a D.O.--who happened to be trans--came in to assess me, sedate me, and put the bone back in the socket, did the pain recede. Apparently, under sedation I tried to punch him twice. Hey, when you grow up with two brothers, muscle memory takes over.

 Doctor sewed me up, I had a CAT scan to make sure there was no damage to my head or spine, and then back to recovery. I had the best nurse, Ella, a Turkish woman, who advised me to keep the sling on for two weeks at least for the best healing. (Needless to say, this has been very tricky when I cook.)

I adored her. These people. On the front lines. My heroes!

 So, this is just a long story to say: As we age, the danger of falls increases. Give yourself some protection if you can (Apple often has rebuilt watches which are cheaper than new ones) to alert the EMTs in case you fall and no one is there to help.

 I was lucky. I did not break anything; I got good care; I have an adorable husband who knew just what to do in this emergency. And my dear younger brother, who has read of trauma, said,"You know, if you are reliving this awful fall, take a stuffed animal to bed with you." I followed his advice because both Rick and I have low-level PTSD from this event. Just seeing me go out onto the deck makes him hyperventilate.

  And--as usual--in a bad event there are good things. Now I have to rest on the couch I have started Fr. Mike Schmitz's, "The Catechism In A Year," on a podcast. 

It is remarkable, revelatory, and I am learning so, so much. So, just like St. Ignatius in Spain long ago when his leg was injured in battle and he was forced to lie in bed and read inspiring, religious books, I am deepening my faith and deciding never to go to war again. Especially on our deck!