From the Heart
Pride cometh before the fall. At this point in my life, I should have no pride left. I have a history of falling.
Now don’t you all be suggesting that I am in need of assisted living or even an “I’ve fallen and I can’t get up” alert necklace. My falls are not my fault. Treacherous surfaces keep getting in my way.
My first fall was several years ago when I was staying with my daughter, Emily, while my son was doing some work on my house.
I came down her stairs and rounded the landing, and let’s just say I did not stick my landing. My foot slid off the carpet and hit the hardwood about nine steps from the bottom of the stairs. I landed on my knee … on several steps.
Emily came running. “Mom, are you hurt?” She said she thought an elephant had fallen down the stairs with all the noise.
I reassured her I was fine as I slowly got up and realized I was anything but fine. She wanted to take me to the hospital. I said, “No way am I going without my makeup and hair done.” I got ready and I hobbled off to work. I hobbled for several days.
To this day I still hear the creak in my knee whenever I climb any stairs.
Fall No. 2 happened right after Chuck and I started dating, seven years ago. I slipped on the tile floor at Kohl’s during a rain storm. I drove myself to the hospital after entertaining my cousins at a luncheon for my mom at her house. My ankle kept swelling as I made sure everyone was taken care of.
Chuck showed up at the hospital. He said the nurse told him that he could go on back to the room I was in since she assumed he was my husband. I told him I think that was the day I knew I had “fallen” in love with him.
Fall No. 3 was the biggee. I was at work and had gone back to the service area. I slipped on a wet area and before I knew it, I was doing the “Oh no, this is going to hurt when I land” hokey pokey dance.
It hurt. I hit the floor with my right wrist in the landing as I twisted my left ankle in the landing and wrenched my knee in the landing and at the finale of my landing, I hit my forehead. Yes, they got it on video. It was not pretty. The landing was not a 10.
That concussion landed me at home for two months. I was no longer allowed in the service department when I was able to return to work. Everyone treated me like I was fragile. I insisted I was a klutz, not old.
By the way, the broken bone in my wrist now makes it impossible to do push-ups. (Not that I ever did them.)
So after these three major falls I am quite convinced I have had my personal allotment of falls. I look at my high heels and think, “There is no way.” Sometimes I think the reason for Chuck holding my hand is … just in case.
And, after all these falls, I am absolutely sure … I have no pride left.