When we first pulled into Bel Air, in late August last year, there was a gigantic motor home in the spot next to us. The "campers" were a couple our own age, and the nicest people you could imagine, Claude and Pat. After a couple of weeks they went on their way. We were sad to see them go. Some people you just feel at home with from the minute you meet.
Early spring and they were back, slipping into the snowbird community with ease and good humor. But, like the tide, soon they were gone again.
A couple of weeks ago, actually the day after Tony broke his leg, they pulled back in, and parked beside us. I was ever so glad to see them, and Pat's warm hug made me feel so comforted. She and I sat one morning a week or so ago and pitted cherries together. I dried mine and she made jam and we shared. I got jam, she got dried cherries.
Three or four days ago she brought over a pail of wonderful cherry muffins. The next day their little white car was gone all day, which was unusual, but I remembered she mentioned they were going to a wedding, so thought maybe they'd decided to simply drive the car, rather than take the big motor home. But then I saw Claude come out early in the morning the next day and drive away alone. Don't know when he got home the night before. I didn't see them around during the day but it was 105 degrees and no one was running up and down the road with gay abandon.
Yesterday evening while I was out in the yard with the cat Pat came around the end of the motor home with her arm heavily bandaged, with all kinds of hardware sticking out of it! She had fallen off the top step of the motor home and landed on her arm, breaking it very badly. She is terribly bruised and swollen. Poor thing!
She reported that the staff of the local Oliver hospital was wonderful. She was transferred to Penticton the morning after her fall, for orthopedic surgery, with the same surgeon who had done Tony's surgery two weeks earlier. I wonder if he realized that he'd repaired bones on next door neighbours within two weeks of each other?
Our other neighbour Dave had surgery on Thursday, and is already home and making the rounds. He was here this morning, checking on Tony. He's a good man, of the sort you can't keep down apparently.
If you are at all superstitious you might consider staying out of the conga line we've formed. Three households in a row, three injuries, three surgeries, in three weeks. Who said 13 was the unlucky number?