My Top Five Worst Falls
Only a writer could fall in her garage and want to blog about it!
In case you missed it, I live with my dad because I take care of him…or he takes care of me…or we take care of each other. Let's just say that we'd both be a mess if I wasn't around to help when the fibromyalgia gets bad and he wasn't able to ensure I get to the doctor and therapy!
See, we don't have an actual garage, we have a carport that my father enclosed with scraps of metal he bought/salvaged; and–try as he might to tar, patch and otherwise cover the roof, it leaks. Especially right over my car. So I have to be very careful in the winter. To be honest, I knew I was going to fall someday…I just thought it would be beside my car, not in front of it!
That’s my fall, and if it doesn't look like it hurt, I didn't do it right!
I'll spare you the gory details, mainly because there are none. No blood, no bruises and the only thing that still hurts is my left pinky that I must have bent the wrong way as I fell. (And even then, only a little.) Instead, let's move on to the main event: the five worst falls I've had in my lifetime.
(P.S.: That fall happened Thursday the 18th, but I won’t be done with the entry in time, so that’s why I’m noting it here.)
(P.P.S.: I was right…I went from laryngitis to a full-on cold after that. Yuck!)
5. The backyard boardwalk dumps me. (2013?) In case the introduction didn't give it away, my dad is a cobbler. No, he doesn't make shoes when he's not at the funeral home; he's the kind that puts things together. A good example is when I was younger, he had a car that didn't come with cupholders. (This was probably a ninety-three, if that tells you anything.) He was still young and the fibro was quite a few years from hitting, so he constructed a box that had two holes for cups and a place to put your trash. (It went into the backseat for me to use on family trips in the next car.) He constructed a box with a hinged lid for my mom to put her Mary Kay exchanges in that she still uses over twenty years later. (Now it's an exchange platform for most anything–I've even returned borrowed shoes using that box!) When he moved into this house the front steps were parallel to the house (very awkward) and there was nothing outside the sliding door. (Why do people do that?) Did he call a contractor? Don't be silly! He adjusted the front steps so they went perpendicular, disassembled the stairs that led out the laundry room door and made them into a back deck and removed the door on the laundry room and put in the window. (The only thing he didn't do–besides replacing the regular windows–is put in the two small octagon windows in his bedroom and bathroom and hang the front door.)
Anyway, when this manufactured home was setup, it was put on a walkout basement that had been carved into a hill. The original owners had poured cement in front of the basement door, but my dad wanted a walkway and decided that a boardwalk would be the best way to do it. (As far as I know, they're just pieces of wood nailed into a square, with more wood nailed across the top. Kind of like the big pavers he put down for a front sidewalk, only these he made himself, of wood.) I've walked along it many times since moving in and never had any problem…at least until that fateful day in 2013.
Sometime back (before I moved in, I think), my father had bought a carpet shampooer, but only used it a few times. One day, we offered it to our housekeeper (also my friend/confidante/somewhat-big-sister) Amanda and she took us up on the offer. Well, being ever-helpful, I went down to the basement, unlocked the door, grabbed the shampooer and maybe got two "blocks" away from the door when I fell, the shampooer with me. Evidently, there was a block that couldn't stand the combined weight of me and the machine and dumped us off. I don't remember too many bruises, but I remember falling in such a way that I sliced my lip open (probably with the way it hit my teeth) and even now, I feel lucky that I didn't knock out a tooth.
But that didn't leave as much of a scar as…
4. Wet shoes in the house equal disaster. (2005) I'd like to put this one higher on the list, considering it left lasting damage; but my muscle memory (if you will) tells me that number three hurt worse.
One day, I happened to be headed out to an appointment, my dad accompanying me. (It was a part of Lansing I'd never been to…and I was nineteen, so I could still get away with the "parental comfort" thing.) But–typical of the younger me–I didn't lay things out ahead of time, so I forgot my directions. Now usually, we take our shoes off at the door so as not to get the carpet wet (soo terrible to discover wet spots with your bare feet!), but since I was in a hurry and Dad was already in the car getting it warm), I didn't take off my shoes. Did I mention we have laminate in the dining room?
Any idea which body part went through the wall?
(That's the catdoor to the basement, by the way.)
If you guessed my right elbow, you're correct! (*chuckle*)
After some tears (and probably a "holy shit! I just put my elbow through the wall!"), I got up, got my directions and headed out to the car, where I had quite the story to tell my father!
3. Getting the Gold Medal in Falling Down the Stairs (2014) During the winter, there can be a such thing as "the right shoes" and "the wrong shoes". Unfortunately, this story is about the wrong shoes! 2014 was a particularly difficult year (at least in the spring), because I had seven people die in something like four months! In fact, I missed one funeral because of the story about to tell you.
In Michigan, we have something called "Michigan Works". It's not a job placement service, but they do maintain an electronic jobs board (and a small computer lab in case you can't access the board at home), offer help for vets and those who need "vocational rehab" (I tried that once…my rehab coordinator didn't do squat and when his replacement called last year, she was an idiot) and even offered scholarships if you qualified for re-training or wanted some help getting into a new field. In order to get the money, you had attend an orientation, do an interest inventory (I got "arts and communications", just like I always did in school) and do something called WorkKeys. Since it was a group assessment, I had to be there at a certain day and a certain time. It was a misty day and still kind of chilly (must have been about April, judging by the date of the funeral I missed)…but I didn't realize the mist had basically caused black ice on the front steps.
For a number of years, I wore shoes exactly like these, always picking black leather and purposefully buying a half size bigger so that I could slip them on and off without untying them. (It was an accident the first time, as the store was out of a 9.5, but when I bought some later [online, in-store or both], I did it intentionally.) Well, as great as those shoes are, they don't have much of a sole and probably aren't meant to be worn at temperatures ≤ 32°. Since they were my everyday shoes of the time, I wore them to the test…or rather, I wore them as I slid down the stairs and got a bruise on my ass the size of a small pancake! (I gave up my Galaxy S4 in January, so I couldn't take a "bruise selfie" even if I'd thought about it!)
If you’ve never slid down wooden stairs on your ass (on accident)…well, you’re not missing anything! I cried (because of course), got up, limped to the garage and actually opened my car and sat down! I don’t know if I thought I was still going to brave the drive into town in spite of my pain or if I just wanted to sit; but needless to say, I limped back into the house, called and postponed. (I believe there was another test the following week at the same time, so it didn’t put me off their plans too badly.) Oh and called myself “blossom butt” for a week, because the bruise on my backside (even though it was almost entirely on the part that curves around to form your hip) reminded me of a flower.
In case you didn't read the WorkKeys thing (and therefore probably didn't get the gold medal reference), you get a metal-themed ranking based on how you did on your evaluations. I got two golds and a silver, so my final rank was gold. If I had finished the math test with gold (that would've been a miracle! Lucky I didn't get bronze!), I would've achieved platinum certification instead.
On to page two!