I’m getting too old to experience these things, yet sometimes they do still occur. The last time I fell I really thought I’d broken a hip. My entire behind turned the color of black licorice and it was a full two weeks before any purple showed up. Then it was another two weeks before I could see the green and yellow that indicates healing.
The fact that I spent some quality time naked, looking behind me into a mirror, surprises me, too. Don’t read too much into that.
I’m not sure how that accident happened. All I did was go down the porch steps on my way to the car for work one morning. It wasn’t snowing and there was no ice. I don’t remember any dew either. And it’s not like I don’t travel those steps every single day. Yet on steps as dry as a bone I either mis-stepped, over-stepped, or forgot to step. The end result was that my derriere landed on the edge of one of those steps and may or may not have cracked something. Not the steps, though. They were fine.
A couple of years ago I was playing with one of the grandchildren and we took off running across a basketball court inside a gymnasium. She was doing fine, but I tripped and fell. Well, tripped isn’t quite right. I scuffed. When you don’t pick your feet up high enough while running across a rubber floor in rubber soled tennis shoes, they grab each other like Velcro. Down I went, taking grandbaby with me. It was all I could do not to fall on top of her.
Maybe I’m just accident prone and have yet to accept that reality.
Last night, on my way up to bed, I tripped on the stairs. I didn’t trip because of the stairs, that’s just where I happened to be at the time. And don’t forget that I was on my way up. I’m not so old that I have to take each step slowly and deliberately, placing one foot on the first step and then cautiously bring the other to meet it on the same step, hobbling, while my hand encircles the safety rail in a death grip, using a cane for balance.
That won’t come for another year or two.
I already have my cane picked out, by the way. I should probably get it now before the price skyrockets or before they quit making them like this. It’s a deep, shiny purple, with moons and stars all over it and I find it wildly fascinating.
So last night, halfway up the stairs in a routine venture, I was bringing my right foot up to land on the step above my left foot. I wasn’t even thinking about it. I make this trip two or three times a day or more, and have everyday for over nine years. But on my way up this time, somewhere between steps, the big toe of my right foot decided to check out what was under the hem of the pajama leg of my left foot.
It’s the momentum that gets you.
I’m okay. I caught myself before I fell all the way forward, which means I didn’t have a chance to lose my balance and fall backward down the steps. It’s a good thing, too. The cat was sitting at the foot of the steps watching me.
Surely she’d have had sense enough to run if Granny came tumbling down the steps toward her.
But then again, you’d think I’d have learned how to walk by now.