It's really hard to write this post.
Not because it's emotionally difficult.
Not because it's hard to find the right words.
But because it's really hard to write this post.
Here's why it's so hard:
Right now, right this second, I'm sitting at the computer with the fire alarm screaming throughout the apartment building. Only moments ago I was fast asleep, deep in dreamland, and was brought to life by the howling of the alarm. Joe and I sat up in bed, discombobulated, getting our bearings, taking a moment to figure out what the noise was all about.
Realizing that the fire alarm was going off, we both got up. As I passed by the door to the apartment, we are located right by the stairwell, I could hear people rushing down the hallway and into the stairwell. Our building is one that isn't plagued by non-sense fire alarms. We don't have pranksters pulling the alarms or drunken party-goers making stupid decisions. So, here, in this building the alarm is serious business.
We face a decision. Trying to get me down the stairs and out into the cold. This is doable, we've tried, but extremely difficult. Waiting until we are assisted by the fire squad. We know that we are on a list compiled by the building and kept secure in case of fire or other disaster, and we are promised that we will get assistance should assistance is necessary. But that's never been tested.
Joe has been out on the balcony, which is inaccessible to me, to check and see if he can see smoke anywhere. We can both see the lights of the firetruck flashing and reflecting on the windows of the building opposite. We know that the crew is here. Joe has just informed me that there is no smoke in the hallways, he called to me from the door where he is talking to someone who is fleeing the building.
We've decided that we need to try and get me down the stairs. The alarm's been on for a long while now.
Now I worry about falling going down the stairs, I worry about Joe having to get me and my chair down the stairs. Maybe a neighbour will help.