On falling down

Yesterday, I fell.

Okay, here’s the scenario: when I leave my apartment, I have a choice. The parking lot is directly in front of me, separated from the row of apartment doors by a lawn; however, it’s raised up by about 2-3 feet, with the edge marked off by a thick wooden barrier much like the kind you’d use to set off a planter bed from a walkway. If I go to the right, there’s a path that leads from my door directly to the stairs, but those stairs are steep and treacherous and I hate them even when they’re not covered in ice. If I go left, I have to trudge across frozen lawn, but I get to another staircase that’s shorter and friendlier. Either way, however, I then have to trudge to my car across what has often been a layer of solid ice under several inches of snow because someone doesn’t salt the parking lot nearly often enough. (Seriously, we’ve had sheets of ice almost impossible to traverse on foot while the street JUST OUTSIDE the lot, which is maintained by the city, has been perfectly clear for weeks.)

If I go straight ahead, however… there’s a small, grassy hill leading up to the lot. We usually go that way when it’s fair out, and yesterday morning, it just so happened I was parked directly in front of the hill. I’d be at my car in half the time and with half the amount of icy, snow-covered ground to tread.

“Don’t go up the hill,” Chaos said, seeing where my eyes were going. “It’s slippery.”

Well that settled it. I was going up the hill. I decided to put a little extra speed into it, hoping momentum would get me up the hill before I could fall, thus proving that I was perfectly capable of making my own way in life and didn’t need to rely on him and also that my malfunctioning legs wouldn’t hold me back because I was an active, capable woman.

Of course, I fell. I almost made it up the hill when I felt my right foot go out from under me. This happens a lot; instinctively, I shifted my weight to my left foot, only to find that it only had the barest of purchase. It slid too. I slammed my right foot back down, trying to grapple for a toehold, but both legs were sliding and the snow was coming up toward my face. Then I spied it: The wooden beam! If I could just get my foot– no, that was my knee, slamming into the corner. Well I had hands, I could hold myself above the snow! But wait, I had a travel mug full of hot caffeine in my hand, I couldn’t risk spilling it. Oh. The mug was on its side in the snow. When did that happen? Oh hey, that’s my purse too. And my face. Yay? I’m just going to chalk this up to a win…

Dimly, I was aware that Chaos was shouting something to me. He sounded concerned. I tried to mutter some reply, thankful the wind hadn’t been knocked out of me, and I heard him leave the doorway, probably to get shoes. I was suddenly aware that I was cold and wet. But if I picked myself up, I’d be out of hands again, and that travel mug was vital to my morning process! What to do? I halfway lifted myself out of the snow only to find my feet couldn’t get purchase anyway.

Chaos arrived, and I instantly instructed him to get the mug so I could focus on getting up. Using the beam to my advantage, I managed to climb shakily to my feet. My purse was full of snow, my mug was thankfully unharmed, my boot was full of snow, and I was decidedly not looking forward to the day, but it could be worse. There were no shooting pains, and my knee only ached dully. Nothing broken or wrenched or swelling. Gentlest fall ever!

Last night I could not get comfortable. Something in my side hurt no matter how I laid, as though there was no comfortable position for my leg. Eventually I passed out.

This morning, upon getting up, Chaos diagnosed me with a bruised muscle. Today I can feel the soreness in my wrists as well, and it hurts to walk. Friggan wonderful. Why does it always hurt more the next day?

The moral of the story? Twilight sucks. You never once see an anecdote like that from Bella despite her informed clumsiness. Obviously I’m a much more compelling character than–

Okay, okay, the real moral of the story is that you should be more concerned with safety than independence, at least when it comes to precarious icy slopes. Or at the very least, don’t pull risky stunts first thing in the morning.

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2 Responses to On falling down

  1. Firedrake says:

    Ow. You may find that some (very gentle) massage helps.

    I have some rubber soles with spikes on them that slip over shoes or boots. Dead handy on ice.

  2. Jarred H says:

    I’m glad you’re only bruised. Hopefully, the bruise(s) heal quickly.

    P.S. I refuse to audit your choices.

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