Imagine, if you will, two bread trucks backed up to each other so the two vertically-opening doors can be lifted so that goods can be transferred from one to the other. They do not quite meet, so that there is about a 20" gap between the two, and one truck bed is about 5" higher than the other. One bread truck belongs to a charity that cannot afford luxuries like maintenance, nor can the warehouse bread truck, which is used instead of the actual warehouse because a largish rat showed up in the bread about 9 months ago and the charity doesn't take the risk - even for the immigrants being given the bread tomorrow who are used to working around rats since childhood.
Moving bread from Truck A to Truck B is one of my three stops every Friday. Six months ago I seriously banged my head on the poorly-maintained warehouse truck's rolling vertical door, bleeding all over the wrapped bread and my own clothes. I banged it again today, because it doesn't quite go all the way up to where it should and I didn't notice. I never do. It was much gentler this time, and my scalp didn't bleed. But I did shy away from it, lost my balance slightly, which turned into "quite a bit, actually," and somehow bumped against both trucks on my way down. I did not fall into the 20" gap, but impossibly fell outside the two trucks onto the pavement from about 3 feet above the ground. I landed on my shoulder and elbow and lay there, mentally surveying whether I was lightheaded, which parts of me hurt, etc. (See link.) I resolved not to try and stand or even sit up until I had figured out what was up. It sucks getting old and losing your balance gradually, so that you realise even on your way down that a year ago you could have gotten a foot under yourself and stayed roughly vertical, but now are headed for a very unforgiving place.
I just barely protected my head with my flannel shirt-sweater-winter coat sleeve! I am very proud of that.
Long story not really short, I ended up in Emergency Services, answering the same questions repeatedly. I was able to try out my wise-ass lines on different audiences as I went. I had it down to a routine by the time I got to the final Physician's Assistant, and the harried staff pretty much loved me and had a brief moment of joy. My favorite was answering "When did you first notice symptoms?"
"Right about the time I hit the pavement, actually." (While thinking "I can't wait to tell this to someone.")
"Who is the president?"
"Is this a trick question?" (That got a laugh both times.)
When you were Al Wyman's son, everything that happens might possibly turn into a vaudeville routine. Life is richer.
6 comments:
Oy! So what's the bottom line? How are you?
Meh. No bones broken. It's tendons and bruising and stitches. I can raise my left arm sideways if I am careful but not forward. I am unable to get a treat for giving a paw.
hopes for a speedy recovery
Ouch! I’m sure that your suffering in the service of charity is meritorious, at least.
I have balance problems due to a rare autoimmune disease. I have become paranoid about walking on stairs, because of a fear of falling. Some of the paranoia is due to the fact that a somewhat distant relative died after falling down "3 or 4 stairs." We should probably move to a place with fewer (or no) stairs, but my wife won't even discuss it. I know that I will almost certainly fall down a flight of stairs some time. If I survive, that will probably settle the issue. Old age stinks.
Ugh... I hope you heal quickly. My greatest fear is of falling... again.
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