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My 76-year old widowed grandmother lived in Detroit in the 1970s, with a roommate. One night a 21 year-old drifter started to break down her door. Despite her little dogs barking and her roomate screaming, he kept on coming. So my grandmother pulled out an S&W revolver, and holding it in her arthritic hands, fired once and put him down permanently. The moral of the story is a firearm makes a frail elderly woman more than equal to a determined young and strong perp with bad intentions.
This is exactly what our right to bear arms is for, God bless you dear woman.
Just like the old saying, “God created everyone equal but Sam Colt MADE them all equal.”