Oh, fate

I had an adventure on my way to work this morning. I was heading out of our apartment complex and saw an old woman walking along the side of the driveway. I had plenty of room to drive by, but she decided to move over a few more feet. Problem was, she stumbled on the slight incline up to the porches and went down like a ton of bricks, banging her head on a door for good measure. I slammed on my brakes in cartoon-like fashion (even managing to turn on the windshield wipers in my haste to get out) and rushed over. At first she insisted that she didn't need 911, but just needed help getting up. Once she was standing, however, she found that she'd hurt her hip and could not move her left leg at all. I stayed there, holding her up, while another neighbor who had pulled up went to find a chair and two more neighbors, and called our resident manager to either take her to the hospital or get an ambulance. Meanwhile, we chatted. She's a pretty awesome lady - she just turned 95, bowls in a league once a week, and was heading out for her weekly 30-minute stroll around the neighborhood. She kept exclaiming, "Why did I have to go walking today?" I understand her frustration - she's been marvelously independent for so long, but if she's hurt her hip ... not so much anymore. She also kept mentioning what a good thing it was that I'd been there. But I couldn't help thinking that if I'd randomly decided to leave a few minutes earlier or later, she probably wouldn't have fallen at all.