Not your usual Costco shopping trip. We had checked out and were heading towards the door and it was actually less crowded than many a Saturday, when a woman we’d seen earlier, her small daughter in her cart and her mother (I assume) with her, was haranguing them (still) in their language; our guess was it sounded like Chinese.
We had not at any time made eye contact nor interacted in any way except that I had, on the far side of the store a little earlier, smiled briefly at the little girl as we passed by. She was being well behaved. Her mother reeked of anger.
I guess I was not walking as fast as the woman wanted me to. I barely saw her coming up from behind just a moment before it happened. There was plenty of space to go around. She instead actively pushed me hard (and my cane, since she was on that side) out of her way. There is no question it was a deliberate act.
Richard was on the other side of the cart and didn’t see till I went flying, totally akimbo, balance blown, grabbing the cart with my other hand to keep from breaking a hip: *I* know what my bone scan looked like after that mega steroid treatment in the hospital, (200 mg/day) even though she could not have.
Everybody behind stopped in horror while those women marched determinedly on, ignoring the fuss.
It was an interesting discussion on the way home: Richard was telling me that co-workers of his had described to him how, in the open-air markets back home, the old women were the worst–they would simply snatch what they wanted out of your hands and didn’t care whose toes they stepped on.
I love that we live in a diverse, culturally rich area. But those people today live here now and you do not assault disabled strangers.
We were too stunned to react (and I was too busy trying not to fall), but for any next time should there be one, my husband and I now have an agreement: next time he will plant his 6’8″ not-small body in front of the woman, who made a point of acting as if she had nothing to do with that and no knowledge of it, and tell her that she is going to wait with us while he calls 911. Because next time I will probably break that hip. I was very fortunate.
Now pardon me, I have a back to go put an icepack on. Good knitting time, at least.
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(Added a few hours later, after I’ve had time to process the above and settle down.)
The report I got is that Judy Sumner‘s daughter put on her favorite music this morning, and at the third song, Judy quietly slipped away to be with her waiting husband Len. She would laugh out loud if she heard me say WIP in peace, dear Judy. Thank you for everything.