Bumping Into an Old Lady

Today, rushing along, I bumped into an elderly woman working by the road.

She said “Don’t leave.” I said “I won’t.” But she gripped me tight and I panicked inside. Gradually a crowd gathered. They said I was reckless, careless, even stupid. I was dazed—my first time in this situation. Instinct and common sense both said I was in the wrong.

They brought a van to take the old lady for checks; I had to agree. My e-bike was held; I took my bag. Soon we reached the township hospital. A young doctor asked basic questions; when she said “75,” I jumped. I looked at her face—wrinkled, pained. I was seeing it properly for the first time. Before, she was just an old woman doing farm work on the highway.

I took a slip to pay and stared at the cash in my wallet. Half an hour later, the X-ray came. I was nervous and hopeful, like waiting for exam scores. The doctor said: “This is hard to say—saying it won’t help either side.” Worried, I said: “Just tell the truth.”

“At her age the bones have fused. Whether anything is wrong, the film is unclear—too fuzzy. Go to a bigger hospital.”

Speechless, I thought: damn, wasted film—what’s the point if you can’t see anything?

Then a middle-aged woman arrived—thin, left eye half closed, mouth slightly crooked. I thought: not easy to deal with. Sure enough, she scolded me; I could only listen. She told the old lady: “I told you to rest at home—that wheat wasn’t urgent—I won’t rest until this is checked clear.” I had no patience for family drama and shouted: “Let’s go to the county hospital—my train is tonight.”

The old lady kept crying in pain. Things looked bad. I lied about catching a train, then said I was a junior in college for sympathy—useless. Maybe I looked like a student anyway.

Leaving, the young doctor said buy them gifts and things would settle. I thought he was reliable and saved his number.

On the road I asked if it still hurt. “Of course it hurts—anyone would after a bump.” The woman in the front seat answered at once. They were smarter than me: invoke the elderly and I had no reply. Seeing me silent, she talked more—a young man hit an old man, offered a check, the man said fine and left, then collapsed at the village edge; the youth was convicted of hit-and-run. She told it twice. I nodded, finding it persuasive.

At the county hospital we registered. A middle-aged doctor felt the old lady’s waist: “Need a CT plus 3D scan—clearer, more intuitive, more expensive. If there’s a problem we’ll see it; if not, we won’t.”

I saw a demon in the white coat and worried. The woman said: “If CT plus 3D is clearest, do that. Fine—we can talk.”

I withdrew cash at the ATM beside billing—so convenient.

Another problem at the CT: severe hunchback; she could not lie flat or straighten her arms to fit the machine. This doctor was responsible: “Not suitable for CT. At her age it’s too long, and her arms won’t straighten—a plain film is enough. Talk to the other doctor about switching to X-ray.”

Finally they knew they’d been sold something. Still they did the CT. At the demon’s office, arguments about changing orders and finance being closed—then CT said they could scan without straight arms. Half an hour later: no problem.

On screen the spine looked vivid; I marveled at creation. I bought medicine and watched them leave.

Relief—like finishing the last gaokao exam. Oh right—today was gaokao day.