Wildwood daze

My mother took a fall recently on the Wildwood boardwalk that could have been disastrous. It wasn't, so I can, in hindsight, find humor in the whole thing.

In short, she's fine. I know because as I write this, she is angling for a police report of the incident to make a claim on her accident insurance policy. There's nothing wrong with that head, although it did hit the ground when she fell.

It happened as we were in pursuit of the funnel cake she insisted on several times during our three-day shore vacation. "I have to have my funnel cake," she kept saying.

We were only minutes into our mission when the fall happened. The sight of her frail, 86-year-old body lying supine is something I'm still replaying in my mind. It's easy to forget because of her energy and emphatic personality that she is so fragile, that she can break easily.

I panicked, and felt the back of her head for a gash or lump that might signal serious damage. But seconds later, I heard her say, "I'm all right," as several strangers huddled around us to help, and one bought us a bottle of water. Whenever I lose faith in humanity, which is easy in our polarized country these days, I will remember the sudden intimacy of kind strangers.  

But this is where it got funny. Out of nowhere, it seemed, at least five Wildwood policemen who resembled benevolent Cub Scouts joined the crowd and helped lift my mother to her feet. It was a moment when blue lives surely did matter.

"I just stumbled," she felt the need to say. "That's what happens when you're an old lady."

Also on the scene within minutes was a paramedic named Ray, who asked my mother if she wanted to go to the hospital. She said no. So he proceeded to ask her questions: "What day is it it?" "What is the date?" "Who is the president?" 

Later, we would recall how my grandmother, in the early stages of Alzheimer's, faced a similar test. Asked to name the president  (Clinton), she replied, "Whoever it is, he's doing a good job."

Anyway, by the time Ray walked my mother off the boardwalk, she was basically herself. As the opening strains of Bobby Rydell's "Wildwood Days" blared over boardwalk speakers, she did a quick two-step that I suspect was just for the guys in blue. She called Ray Roy, then caught herself and said, "I think I did good Ray, don't you?" 

Ray could hardly get a word in edgewise, as mom would say. In the short walk from the boardwalk to the street, he learned she has three children, is a widow and that she still hadn't snagged that funnel cake.

"I was just dying for that Ray." 

Then her pride kicked in: In the ambulance that took us to our condo, she asked me, "Did I look ridiculous in front of those cute kids?" There was the inevitable mention of money: "This ambulance is going to cost a pretty penny."

After we took leave of Ray and his partner, I made her keep talking, to make sure she wasn't slurring her words or feeling nauseous. We referenced her favorite Cary Grant movie ("Penny Serenade"); the birth order of her children; and the husbands of Elizabeth Taylor, a bit of a trick question since the actress had eight marriages but seven spouses, having married Richard Burton twice. Mom came up with husbands 1) hotel heir Conrad Hilton, 3) the guy who died in the plane crash, movie producer Mike Todd and 4) singer and homewrecker Eddie Fisher.

"He was a louse," she opined of that last one.

Yep, she seemed fine. Yet more than a week later, we still feared possible head damage that might not have presented itself immediately. A CAT scan two days ago showed no effects, but what that test couldn't show was how close she came to serious injury.

Now we can laugh about the kid cops and the ambulance guy and the fact that she never did get that funnel cake, because also on scene that day were the angels on her shoulder. Yes, angels, as in plural. She has a number of them. 

I'm pretty sure I know who they are.