A Sight for Sore Eyes…

The Lighter Side to Facing Vision Loss

***

STUCK BETWEEN TWO DRAWERS

A few weeks ago, I was caught up in a dilemma I’d never dreamed possible. It defied even my bad luck and threw me

A ridiculous situation to be in...held captive in my own kitchen!

back to one of my I-Love-Lucy kind of scenarios. I hadn’t had one of those in awhile.

Clunk!  What fell? What did I drop? I pulled the bottom drawer all the way out and looked at the contents: a grilling pan with ridges, two serving plates from Thailand, a Turkish coffee pot, a wooden mortar  and pestle, a couple of plastic strainers and several measuring cups. I must have dropped one of the measuring cups — between the drawers.

Great.

I rolled up the sleeve of my sweatshirt and reached my arm through the space to pull out the missing cup.  It must be in the corner. I squeezed more of my arm through the dark, narrow opening and felt around with my fingertips. Nothing.

Exasperated, I inched my arm to the left. If I could just G E T it. This is taking too long. Forget it.  Time to get on with my work. Ooomph! My arm is lodged in there. Tightly. I yanked. Pulled. I pushed. Nothing.  Oh no. This is crazy! I am trapped in here!

Don’t panic. There’s got to be a solution.

I tried to wiggle.

Wedged myself in more tightly.

Okay, keep calm. That lasted thirty seconds!

“Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. MOM! MOOOOO-OOOOM!”

Oh, here comes Buddy. Good boy.  “Buddy, RUN for help!” He lay down next to me and … licked my hand.

Oh Buddy.  Stike one for getting rescued! He’s not suddenly going to run down the stairs to mom’s house with his arthritic legs and nudge her to my side. This is Buddy, not Lassie.

“Buddy, bark! Pretend you’ve seen the neighbor get out of the car. Come on,” I cajoled. “BARK! BARK!”

Buddy cocked his head to the side, made himself comfortable and placed his head on my free hand. He smiled, his peculiar crocodile grin. Is he laughing at me? It sure looked like it from my angle.

“Mom, MOM, MOOOOOOMMMM!”

It’s hopeless!

I maneuvered myself off my knees and onto my behind. Spying the two colanders,  I picked them up and whipped

The only untried tool--my grilling pan!

them behind me. Unfortunately, like pebbles skipped across the water, they bounced lightly across the floor and skidded softly to a stop in the middle of my bedroom.

I grabbed my pestle and thumped it against my tile floor at my feet as hard as I could. Unfortunately, I got too much in the zone! I missed the floor and smacked my Thai plate. Cracked it right in half.  With a groan,  I got my grilling pan and banged that against the floor. Oh no! Now the corner of my beautiful tile is chipped!

This is unbelievable! I’m held captive in my own kitchen.

I went back to screaming at the top of my lungs. Buddy got bored with my shouting and wandered off to lie down — probably to get some peace.

After what seemed like nearly an hour, but was probably only twenty or thirty minutes, I  somehow– still don’t know how–wiggled my arm. It moved! I kept at it….until I was…

FREE AT LAST!

I ran downstairs, half-laughing, half-crying, “MOM! I’ve been shouting FOREVER!” I accused. My voice already sounded hoarse.

She looked contrite. “Was that YOU? I kept going to the door thinking it was someone outside.”

Mom!

Seated in her favorite chair with an ice pack pressed to my swollen arm and my feet up, I calmed down.

As I replayed the situation, in my mind’s eye,  it played out like one of Lucille Ball’s famous comedies–with Lucy’s droll faces. I could see her employing all her antics with my utensils. I watched the  the zany melodrama and Lucy’s hands-on-her-hips outrage — with Ricky, Ethel and Fred all busy doing something else and somehow not hearing her. I could imagine them saying, “Oh was that YOU, I thought it was something outside…” They’d all nod in agreement with each other, cover their mouths in shock, or drop their jaws down.

I smiled…would have laughed but my throat hurt and my arm was throbbing. Seemed a lot better as a scene on a black-and-white television screen with Lucy getting stuck between two drawers.

But. Unfortunately. It was me.

© Amy Bovaird 2013.

You have read “Stuck Between Two Drawers.”  What’s the strangest predicament you’ve found yourself in? Consider leaving a comment!

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