I fell walking through the man door into our garage.
It was wet out front.
I was barefoot.
I went outside to take down a pumpkin banner that was flapping and snapping in the mountain breeze.
As I stepped into the garage over the threshold and through the door, my right heel slid forward on the floor causing me to fall on the cement on my left knee. I am bruised on my knee and sore from neck to waist on my right side. In hindsight, if I was attempting the splits as a ballet dancer I would be proud.
The Mister opened the door into the mud room just as I was getting up.
He panicked.
I said I am fine but I'll be sore.
What is it that makes us Seniors fall?
I came in the house. Iced my bruised knee and sat down to peruse the CBC News website.
On the second row of stories down the page was the headline- "Risk of Falls for Seniors".
Apparently we seniors- over 65, flop to the floor enough times to have falling related injuries the number one reason we are hospitalized.
I may have gone to the hospital if my right leg had been wrapped up around my neck but it wasn't and I didn't. The article pointed to hearing loss and vision loss as the causes of us smacking the deck. Losing our balance was the result. In my case it was a slippery garage floor. Good Gawd, I might have chipped a tooth or broke my nose. I wouldn't have gone out for weeks what with the swelling and black and blue around my eyes, nose and mouth.
Of course, I repeat- I am fine but I am sore.
I don't feel like 70 but somehow some things I do point to the fact I am and I am not pleased.
A neighbour asked if I wanted to borrow a cane.
"Have one and used one before"- I said, "but thanks."
Crap.
These days my skin is much thinner too. I can mark my arm with anything vaguely sharp like a rubber ball- and have blood gush forth like never before. If our Mini Schnauzer pulls at my arm wanting a treat or a walk, her nails gouge my skin. The rich, crimson blood flows around the blonde hairs on my arm and droplets hit the floor.
This is crazy and the marks take longer to heal than they did in my previous youth.
Some days I should just lock myself in a padded room.
I'd be safe.
Lonely but safe.
I'd better go and apply another ice pack to my knee.
It's smarting a bit.
I have Dr. Ho to help my right side. He doesn't come to the house. I keep his equipment in a drawer in the "Boy's Room"- our main floor powder room.
I use his pads quite often.
Buying his contraption in a search for pain relief, I feel that I have provided extra cash so he can continue to enjoy his life on his huge yacht with all those nubile, blonde girls sunning themselves on every deck.
I'm sure Dr. Ho is well aware how often we oldsters fall or are in pain.
He's stepped up to the plate
...which is better than falling on it.
