The Lens:
I took a header the other day. Carelessness, pure and simple. I was crossing the street on the way to work. A co-worker had pulled up and was parking her car. As I was crossing, I turned and waved. Then, I looked down to put my key in my purse, just at the point where I was stepping up the curb.
I guess I didn’t step up high enough. I caught the toe of my shoe on the curb. Now, I have taken a few stumbles in my life. Most of the time, I can catch myself. This time, I couldn’t. I think it was because I was already leaning forward trying to put my key in my purse. Who knows.
It is a terrible moment when you stumble, and realize you can’t stop yourself and are going down. At that point, you go into survival mode.
Many years ago, I was picking up my son who was at my sister’s condo. He was probably 3 or 4 years old at the time. He came running down the hall toward me. I started to run, too. Bad idea.
Just as we met and I was bending over taking him in my arms, I tripped. With my speed and trajectory (right word??), there was no way I wasn’t going down. I was terrified I was going to fall on top of him.
I just reacted. I turned my body to the left. I landed somewhere between my side and back. My son landed on top of me. In the end, neither of us was hurt (physically, anyway – my pride was a bit injured). It was rather comical.
I was quite a bit younger then. It’s not quite so comical anymore. Still, in that moment, I learned the art of falling.
So, when I started to fall this last time, I instinctively turned to my side. It was St. Patrick’s Day. My DNA chart looks like a color wheel at a paint store, yet I only show .6% British and Irish. I may not be Irish at all. Still, I had the luck of the Irish with me.
I was going down hard and fast, on cement none-the-less. The back of my left hand fingers and palm of my right hand were the first to make contact, followed by my right knee, and then my left side. My head never hit the ground but came as close as it possibly could with the tip of my glasses touching the ground.
Somehow, I didn’t hurt myself. A little sore, but no scrapes, cuts or bruises. No broken bones. No damage to my glasses or face. No torn closes. Only the luck of the Irish can explain that.
The ReFracture:
Years ago, my husband did something that really pissed me off. I don’t remember what it was but it was something that his father, Bob, always did. In my ever quick and biting wit, I said something like, “Way to go, Bob.”
Now we both were really pissed.
It is never a good feeling when you realize you are turning into your parent. My mom was forever falling in her later years. It could have started years earlier. Who knows.
She never liked to admit she had fallen. We would only hear about it because she would hurt herself. She’d sprain her wrist, end up with a black eye because her glasses smashed into her face, etc.
But, it was never her fault. It was always her new shoes or some other outside factor. It couldn’t be she just tripped and fell.
In a way, she was right. My shoes are often the problem. Only, it is just I don’t lift them quite high enough. I don’t fall all of the time, but I do seem to trip a lot. I often catch myself. Every now and then, I don’t.
When I don’t, most often I only come away with a severely injured pride. I can only remember two times when I really hurt myself: once I sprained an ankle, the other time I chipped a bone in my foot.
When I chipped the bone, my doctor chided me. I got the “You need to be more careful” speech. I have a very slight build and have the beginnings of osteoporosis. “You were very lucky you didn’t break anything,” she added to drive the point home.
Mastering the art of falling has helped, though my left side is taking a beating.
My husband tweaked his back a few days before my fall, so I had been picking up the slack around the house. We were making the bed, with me doing most of the work.
I started to complain about my shoulder. He says, “You need to take it easy,” to which I said a bit snippily, “Somebody’s got to do this stuff.”
He said, “No, I mean when you are walking around.”
He’s right. The only problem is I have turned into my mother. Destiny can be cruel.