Helplessness is a feeling I generally try to avoid. I’m much happier when I’m fixing a problem or keeping one from happening.
So when I walked outside onto a Cleveland street during my brother’s move-in day this weekend to meet my mom, my heart stopped when I saw her facedown on the sidewalk.
She’d lost her balance and been unable to catch herself — and I wasn’t there.
My mom is blind, was weakened by a recent injury and had a lively dog to baby-sit, but the presence of those risk factors didn’t lessen my shock.
As I flirted with a second disaster by running across a downtown street without checking for cars, all I could think was, “I can’t believe I left her alone.”
But although I wasn’t there until it was too late, others were.
As I stood there shaking, unable to do anything beyond touch my mom and ask if she was okay, the strangers around us took a break from moving their kids’ things, and they rallied.
And they were precisely the people we needed. The half-dozen parents that came to my mom’s aid within seconds of her fall just happened to include a nurse and a paramedic.
Before I realized it, we were sitting in a bench, armed with antiseptic wipes and Band-Aids as a paramedic worked his magic. Another parent even remembered to hold on to our dog’s leash, a detail I almost certainly would have overlooked.
After a few minutes, my heart rate slowed down and I regained control of my brain and my numb limbs, allowing me to realize how grateful I was to the people around us.
While I was rendered useless — frozen, panicked and generally in the way — they took care of my mom, who ended up just being scraped up and shaken. At the same time, they provided a much-needed reminder for me.
They didn’t know my mom or me. No names were exchanged, and they’ll probably never see us again. They’ve probably already forgotten it even happened.
But in that moment, they cared.
The stress level of most of the people participating in the move-in day was high, but the attitudes of the people who came to our aid were nothing but soothing.
As it turned out, the inconvenience of loading up a car and lugging around heavy items didn’t trump basic human compassion for those people who came to our rescue that day.
It was a reminder I needed that day, and one I’m sure I’ll need in the future.
I just didn’t think I’d find it on a crowded Cleveland street.
Rebecca McKinsey is the managing editor for The Post. Tell her about the Good Samaritans in your life at rm279109@ohiou.edu.
