I slipped fell amongst some dirt and gravel yesterday. Nothing was hurt much beyond my pride; a scrape or two on my hands. Probably twenty people saw my slip. I popped right back up, but still.
In my defense the ground was slopped quite precipitously. More on that later.
Once upon a time the only semi-athletic skill I possessed was extraordinary balance. I could run along beams, I could balance on one foot for hours, I could stand on my head. These days, not so much. Not that I am wobbly or that I fall often, it is that pulling on jeans or standing on one foot without holding on isn’t as easy as it was in my younger days. The past few months have proven that. I’ve spent an inordinate amount of time on one foot.
Yesterday’s fall was far more about uneven ground than anything, but I still hate it.
In a totally unrelated note, it is Columbus Day. If you want an “Indigenous Peoples Day” choose any one of the remaining 364. That, I would be cool with.
3 comments:
My medicare/insurance calls me at least once a year to ask if I need help with daily activities...bathing, dressing, etc. Do I get dizzy, have I fallen recently...so many more, it pisses me off.
They even offer to make a home visit to make sure I can take care of myself. Because OLD. I tell them, politely, I'm fine please go away.
Don't know how long I can stay polite.
After reading your post about your trip, I feel like a dumb-ass spewing my "it's what happens to old people" comment.
I kind of set it up that way
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