Around ten years ago my mum smashed all the bones in her right shoulder. She had been stepping out of the house and her foot caught on the lip of the door. Nobody had been there to see it, and so, after squirming on the driveway for several minutes, my mother had made a quick, painful call and her best friend’s husband duly came to pick her up and take her to the hospital.
That same year, my Aunty Sue also broke her shoulder. She had been at choir practice, and as she was stepping from the church, her foot caught on the lip of the door. Many people had been around to see it and somebody promptly offered to take her to the hospital.
They both received the same same treatment except that my Aunty opted for follow up surgery and my mother did not. Ten years on, when they lift their right arms, Aunty Sue can reach higher.
This might come in useful for many things.
For example, when my Aunty Sue is in Tesco, she can reach the Weetabix on the higher shelves. When she is cleaning the house, she can dust the top shelf of the cupboard. And if she were lost in a crowd, that extra three inches’ height that her finger-tips achieve may well be the difference between her staying lost or being found.