Yesterday I fell down the stairs.
I think I was trying to jump down the last two stairs — but I instead miscalculated weight in space and time and wrenched when I should have twisted — I don’t remember much of anything except slowly becoming aware I bellyflopped flat on the floor.
There is no graceful way to perform such a trick except to try not to groan or cry when you finally come to a stop. The hardest part about stopping is the picking yourself up off the floor part.
After you land in slow motion — first on your shoulder as your slam into the hallway corner, then your wrist, fist clasping house keys, and then your knees, each in turn — you quickly realize how falls kill the elderly with malice.
I’m glad I was able to avoid slamming my head into the marble floor. If I were 20 years older I’m not sure I would have been strong enough to avoid head-meeting-floor.
The results were immediate. Bruised right shoulder. Both knees bloodied. Aching wrist. Two fingertips crushed between the metal keys they were holding in my fist and the hard floor. I’m typing this with my nose.
The day after is worse than the day of — because everything has time to condense and expand and throb and wiggle and stiffen — and so I sit here wondering if you have ever done something so stupid that you and only you are to blame for your own physical misfortune?
Please share your pain in all its gory detail — my nose could use a break from typing…