Thump, thump, thump, my stocking feet and laborious gate swagger in a determined rhythm toward the next home. As I make my way, I try to formulate what I am going to say. Help? Save me? Hello? Onto their driveway, past the open garage, onto the doorstep. I raise my hand to knock. Just as I tap the glass door, I see the occupant.
Looking at me with an astonished expression, he asks, “Good grief, what has happened to you?”
Simultaneously I ask, very politely, “Can you help me, please?”
Instantly the man swings the door wide open and ushers me into the foyer.
“I fell off my boat and swam to shore.”
“Where? In the bay in front of our property and you walked up the stairs?” the man queried.
“No,” I replied. “I fell off my boat over five miles offshore . . . I have been in the water for over three hours.”
“Oh my, YOU are the fellow the coast guard is looking for! Sit down!” Rapidly he undresses me while calling orders to his wife for hot water bottles and towels and for her to call 911. He introduces himself as Bob and his wife, Bonnie. Both are instantly spring-loaded into rescue mode. No sooner am I apologizing for my appearance than I find myself wearing Bob’s clothes.
I give Bob some phone numbers and he quickly telephones my wife. I hear him telling her I am safe. Bonnie, in the meantime, is wrapping me in blankets. I speak to Scarlet on the telephone. With quivering and stammering lips, I tell her that I am okay and that I think the lifeline broke. I am now shaking uncontrollably.
Bob asks me to stand and walk into his front room with him, but I can’t. My body has completely shut down. I marvel that after all I have been through, I can’t even make an effort toward something as simple as standing. With all my strength, what little there is left, I lean on Bob as he carefully lifts me and guides my frozen, shaking body into their front room.