Last evening, as I was flattening cardboard in my garage in preparation for curbside recycling, I stepped on a piece, that was on a shiny piece, and in a split second, I was flat on my back. After an expletive that emerged as I was on the decline, I had the neighbor’s attention. She called from her deck above and asked if I was ok. I could only reply with another choice word as I got rolled over. I must have looked like a beached whale flailing around. My wrists had taken impact and would not support any leverage. I may have knocked out my breath or have a rib out because I was certainly having trouble breathing. And, I think truth be told, I was having flashbacks of almost two years ago when I slipped on our back stairs and broke my ankle. My sweet neighbor was at my side and I was trying to communicate which wasn’t working well. She hollered inside for my husband, but he is getting so deaf he couldn’t hear her, although he came outside because he did hear something. By then I was able to sit up and with some effort and assistance gather myself. At least when I decided to call attention to myself, I wasn’t still on my motorcycle like I was 10 minutes earlier.
Today, I am a bit sore from landing on concrete. My ego is bruised. And I am thankful I come from tough stock. I do wish for more of the graceful genes though.
Photo by Paweł Czerwiński