It happened on a perfectly innocent walk across the Walgreen’s parking lot. I never did see how or why – a ripple in the cement perhaps or a loose shoelace – but I suddenly found myself hunched over and pitching forward. After two or three steps, physics kicked in, then momentum, then gravity and I found myself crashing into the concrete. There was a rip in the knee of my jeans, two fingernails were torn, and I had three dime-sized scrapes on my knuckles, all raw and bleeding but to my amazement, nothing was broken. Humiliated and horrified that this graceless act might have been witnessed, I scrambled to my feet, snatched up my keys and purse and skittered to my car like a wounded water bug.
A week or so later, I decided to change the light bulb above the kitchen sink. I dragged one of the dining room chairs to the sink and (carefully) climbed up but the fixture was still just out of reach so I climbed a little higher (again, carefully) into the sink, braced myself against the cabinet and changed the bulb. I fell on the way of getting down, somehow losing my balance, twisting sideways and pitching off the chair, landing on my whole right side with enough impact to set my dentures to rattling. I laid there for several seconds, anticipating an abrupt shock of pain from a shattered shoulder, elbow or most likely hip, but nothing came. Except for a ragged patch of skin on my elbow which was bleeding freely and hurt like a son of a bitch, I was miraculously intact. From 4 feet off the floor to linoleum and nothing broken.
“Jesus wept,” I told the anxious little dachshund who had come to investigate, “I must be made of iron.”
I hauled myself to my feet, bandaged the elbow and replaced the dining room chair. Then the medical alert alarm sounded like an air raid siren, scaring us both out of a year’s growth.
“Here comes the cavalry,” I told the little dachshund, “Don’t worry, I’ll handle it.”
I thanked and assured the concerned voice at the other end of the line that I was fine. I had taken a tumble, I explained (seeing no need to give her any details), but no harm done. I appreciated their calling and was glad to know that the system worked.
Moments later my cell phone rang and my friend, Michael, demanded to know how had I fallen and was I really alright.
“I was changing a light bulb,” I explained a little impatiently, “and I lost my balance and ……..how the hell did you know I fell?”
“I’m your emergency contact,” he said mildly, “They said you’d fallen and were fine but they’re required to let me know. So, are you? Fine, I mean?”
The odd thing about both of these falls was what went through my head in between upright and impact. I had time to think and understand that I was going to hit the ground and hit it hard, even enough time to curse and say a small prayer that I’d be able to get up. It was curious and a little unsettling. I’ve fallen before and probably will again but I don’t recall being that aware of what was happening during the fall. Things happen, of course, but usually it’s normality one second and on the ground the next. You hardly have time to dwell on, worry or dissect what’s happening. Looking back, I don’t recommend having the time to reflect on it.
I do hope there’s no truth to that old 3rd time’s the charm crap.
