E-Grrrl and I were in high spirits. The guys are camping this weekend, and we're on our own with plans to make art, bake cookies and finish making a pinata for her class. We also needed to buy gifts for our Belgian relatives who have birthdays in December. The sun was shining and the air crisp. I knew parking anywhere near the mall would be impossible, so I layered my fuchsia down vest over a black sweater and together we headed to the Metro station, walking arm and arm and laughing.
Everything changed the moment we got off the Metro and began walking through the station. We watched in horror as an older woman a short distance ahead of us stepped onto the escalator, lost her balance, and fell straight backwards as the escalator climbed.
I sprinted forward to reach her, telling her in English, "It's OK, you're not alone." She was stunned, flat on her back at a steep angle, her head facing the bottom of the escalator and rapidly turning crimson as the blood rushed downward. I grabbed her under the arms and worked to pivot her prone body around so her head would be facing upward, hoping that I could then ease her into a seated position on a step before the escalator reached the top. While I managed to turn her, she was shocked and panicked and I couldn't get her to sit up. She was like a beetle trapped on its back.
A crowd had gathered at the top of the escalator and I yelled for someone to stop the escalator, terrified her hair or hands would get trapped as the escalator reached the top and the steps flattened. She was still on her back. If there was an emergency stop button, no one saw it or knew how to activate it. In just a moment, we were at the top of the escalator, her head bumping over the top edge.
At that point several people came to our aid. I grabbed her bags and trolley and a man reached under her arms and brought her to her feet. I was very concerned she might faint if she was pulled to a standing position too quickly, but my French was failing me and I didn't know how to convey that. I thought she should sit for a while, but there wasn't a bench in sight.
Luckily, the man and two women at the top of the escalator spoke French and asked if they should call an ambulance. She said no, and then a woman offered to call someone for her. I stood by knowing she was in shock and that she really should sit down, that she was bound to begin feeling the pain of her fall and her rough ride up the escalator at any moment. Still, the other people attending to her seemed in a better position to help her (due to my limited French), so E-Grrrl and I left after she thanked us for helping her.
By some freakish coincidence, that very morning E-Grrrl and I had been lying together in my bed talking about how scary it is to fall down stairs. She was recounting dreams she'd had of falling, and we were talking about how when we first moved to Belgium, we ALL fell on the stairs regularly. In our house here, there are three sets of narrow, curving stairs that have a different rise and proportions than the American steps we were used to. Our bodies were programmed to a particular step height and position, and it took a long time to retrain our senses and not keep tripping and losing our balance on the steps.
Both kids took some dramatic spills, especially my son A who tripped at the top of the stairs and fell forward, hitting his head hard and putting me on a concussion watch for 24 hours. I told E-Grrrl how I'd tripped on a laundry basket at the top of the cellar stairs when I was a little girl and fell down the steep steps to the concrete floor below. My forehead was bruised and my eye so battered it swelled shut--my first and only black eye and one of the few times I ever remember my parents taking me to the doctor.
Those stories made the woman's horrifying experience all the more frightening to witness and participate in. We walked in silence through the holiday buzz of the mall with an adrenaline hangover, our spirits flattened with concern. Had we done enough? Was there a better way to handle that situation? Had those people stayed with the woman? Was someone coming to take her home?
I'm glad she didn't crack her skull on the sharp metal edges of the step and I was grateful she was wearing a well padded winter coat, but I know from experience how the extent of injury and bruising from falling isn't fully seen or felt until hours later. I hope she's not alone and that she's OK.
The vision of the woman's body arcing backward and falling onto the steps is a moment I'll never forget. I'm sure it's etched in E-Grrrl's mind as well.
December 15, 2007