Glamorless

In 1998 my brother was married at Prague's St. Vitus Cathedral. The wedding was followed by a glamorous reception at the Old Royal Palace. It was a rich and memorable night of vodka, cigars, and exceptional wine.

Late in the night, a group of us began to leave the Palace in search of cabs and our next party. As I descended a winding staircase, a friend hoisted me into a fireman’s hold and began running down the hall.

The rest of the night was as shocking as the fall. An ambulance ride over cobblestone streets, sure every bone in my body was breaking. A Soviet-era hospital, abandoned except one broken wheel chair resting against the long wooden bench. X-rays without protective lead. Pills dispensed in a small Manila envelope. The only word of English spoken was VISA.

Diagnosis: broken ribs and luck. The fall was worse than the injury.

This week I’ve thought a lot about that night nearly twenty years ago. There’s nothing glamorous about broken ribs but I remember at the time being proud of having such a tale to share.

Unfortunately, this past Sunday the story repeated itself, except for any aspect of glamour.

No Palace. No fine wine or Cuban cigars. Nothing more than cheap body wash and a slippery tub. The fall happened in an instant, my left rib-cage taking the full blow of the bathtub’s edge. In shock, I scrambled over the tub to my cell phone and then spent the rest of the night in the ER.

Monday morning, doped up on pain killers and enjoying the last moments of adrenaline before the real recovery started, I sent an email to the Dug In volunteers. I can’t lift. I can’t stand. I can’t work outside. For the time being I can barely breath, laugh and God forbid I cough.

Then they began to arrive. Without direction or instruction, they cleaned buckets, harvested flowers, crated vegetables, organized the cool room. They loaded the minivan for the produce pick up and then unloaded it when it reached the farm. They fed the chickens, plowed and tilled the fields.

Tomorrow they’ll come again. This farm will continue to run.

I get misty when I think of all the people who care so deeply for me and do so much to make my dream a reality. I feel inept, always, when I try to thank them. There’s never enough to say. So tonight, at the risk of somehow forgetting someone who has done so much, I’d like to say thank you to all of you who keep it running when I can’t.

Thank you Albert, Sister Chris, Natalie, Jim, Anne, Mike, Marlene, David, Liz, Ran, Ginger, Sara, Joyce, Debbie, Donna, Mary Beth, Hugo, Mary Louisa and Al.

And, as always, thank you for reading and continuing to support the farm! Stay on your feet and stay well,

Carolyn

#FarmLife