The Installation
A Story Every Day in 2024 March 24th 84/366
Joan managed to get down the stairs but it was a struggle. Her knees crippled her with pain. She felt every movement. Where stairs had once been easily navigable, they were now daunting. She remembered steps of the past: registry office, boardwalk hikes, temple tourist spots.
She had managed to get to the bottom when a shadow appeared in the glass and the doorbell chimed. This visit had been scheduled for weeks ever since the assessment and she had looked forward to it and dreaded it in equal measure.
"Hello, love." On the doorstep was a man, middle-aged she guessed, dressed in a uniform of sorts, holding an ID card. "I'm Mike and I'm your installer today."
She squinted at the ID and rather than embarrass herself at not being able to see, she found herself saying "Okay. Come on in."
She'd already done the paperwork so it was a case of keeping out of the way. Fred next door had already offered his bathroom if she needed it but she wasn't planning on drinking anything until it was done.
She went into the lounge, picked up her knitting and waited.
It took all day but eventually, Mike knocked the door.
"Hello again, love. It's all fitted. I just need you to come and sit on it while I explain a few things."
She obligingly put down her knitting and got up, knees protesting as she did. She sat while she had a test run. She had to sign something to say she'd had the instructions explained. Everyone wanted to sue nowadays. She was desperate for the bathroom.
"Okay, love. Well, good luck with it. Ring the number if you need any help," Mike the installer said and Joan closed the door on him with a small wave and a wan smile.
Watching him drive off, she sighed with relief. She looked at the installation. Sadly, she headed over to it. Resignedly, she sat on it. She pressed the button after loosely belting herself in. Slowly, she ascended.
Tears flowed down her face. The physical pain would be less but the manifestation of her descent towards death induced emotional pain that she would have to hide.
***
366 words
I have a bit of a thing going on at the moment with death and ageing. It's obviously on my mind.
I wrote a poem as well about it:
And this story sort of talks about mortality too, or a decline in health at least and confronting the possibility:
Thanks for stopping by! If you do read this, please do leave a comment as I love to interact with my readers.
84/366
About the Creator
Rachel Deeming
Mum, blogger, crafter, reviewer, writer, traveller: I love to write and I am not limited by form. Here, you will find stories, articles, opinion pieces, poems, all of which reflect me: who I am, what I love, what I feel, how I view things.
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Comments (13)
Aw...this is so sad. I think we both share those feelings about mortality and getting old, failing health and all. I noticed this becoming a recurring theme. I really felt for Joan. Also...just saw what you said to Dharr lol...yeah...speed settings might help get rid of the stigma and sense that death is closer...lol. Well done as always, you are really great at these slice of life pieces.
Ohhh, it's a stair lift! I thought it was a toilet so imagine my confusion when she ascended 😅 I sure hope I'm long dead before I reach the stage where I need this hahaha. Loved your story!
Growing old is inevitable….. but it literally scares the life out of me. This felt oh so real. Great work Rachel.
As scary as the idea of growing old sounds, I know it's a part of life and a privileged that not everyone has.
That final paragraph was a gut punch. The image of her all alone and crying while riding the lift…whew! Well done once again, Rachel!
Dear Rachel - I've come to realize: Life certainly isn't a 'Dress Rhearsal.' I have 27 Brick steps to my front door. j.in.l.a.
For Sunday morning worship, I always knelt before the altar upon entering. I figured if I could kneel & get back up without using my hands, I was okay. One Sunday morning I couldn't. That was not a happy day.
Well-wrought, Rachel, well-wrought indeed. My dad never let anyone do anything for him ever. Didn't need it, didn't want it, wouldn't let ya. Until heart disease and leukemia took him down in the last few years of his life. Of course, every person he ever helped that was still around jumped at the chance to return his own infinite good will; but he didn't like it at all. He knew he could talk to me about it, as I am not prone to blanching at the uncomfortable, and he didn't want to upset others, whose help he still definitely appreciated. So in that one way, I was able to provide him a service no one else could... where he had provided me a life and taught me to be a man. This is one of many such examples I can think of in my real life, the feeling of which your story does an excellent job of expressing. It's universal, I think. Bless you!
This is a deeply moving slice of life, Rachel. It's ironic that it is easier to climb stairs with bad knees than to go down them. Aging is a sad and sometimes scary proposition. My wife and I have really focused on our health and well being for the last twenty years and so far it is paying off. Mobility matters. We want to engage as fully in our lives as possible as long as possible. Your empathy for the woman is your story really shines through, Really well down.
The realization that old age sucks when the stair lift goes in. Well done.
Ouch 😩 Beautifully written as always ❤️
Rather wrenching. Deftly done!
This is just so well done, just felt so real.