You don’t hear me complain very often. What’s a pain here-and-there? For me, it’s a gratitude nudge for all the easy days. But, man-o-man, my neck and shoulders yell “whiplash” and, by the thoracic aches, I can’t decide if it’s from my spine, ribs, liver, or kidneys. Then, there’s my left knee and shin. I feel like I ran into a brick wall!
DON’T tell me to: “bite your tongue…dig in your heels…ear to the ground…go over your head…or heads will roll,” because I WAS “up to my eyeballs” gazing at my bedroom wood floor! Yeah…I fell out of my wheelchair. In my book, Views From My Chariot: A Wheelchair Oddity, (you can purchase it here or off amazon) http://booklocker.com/books/6235.html , I compare the other falls to extreme athletes. I’ll just call this one a jackknife onto a hard wood floor. No big deal. It’s only the 7th in 39 years.
I always begin a left-to-right transfer by wrapping my left arm around my left push bar in order to shift my weight toward my right “landing.” But, what can I say, I over-shifted…w-a-y over; not only was my head dangling below my seat cushion, my feet slipped backward off my foot rests, leaving me hanging by my left arm in a life-grip!
I was too far from the floor for a push up with my right arm, so my only hope was to hold onto my break extender—with my teeth, and grasp the right tire with my right hand. (As I said in my book, I can rival any Cirque du Soleil gnashers act, except for Igor Zaripov!)
I don’t have a clock in my bedroom floor, so I have no idea how long my delusional attempt of recovery lasted. But, after the prolonged blood rush and brain oxygenation, I channeled Ilsa: LET IT GO!
No brag, just fact: I’ve learned how to plan a fall although…in route, my left leg hung behind catching on my left foot rest/bar—a point deduction in any diving competition for tipping the board!!
The unfortunate part is that I had already hung up my phone and, in hindsight’s 100% accuracy, had recently opted out of a James Bond-ish life-alert chip being encased in one of my dental crowns. I mean, who foresees a spasmodic gnashing or clenching of teeth?!
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The silver lining: I had a Raindrop appointment with my sister, Candace, the next morning. That got (body) slammed. She called 911. Two tall handsome hunks air-lifted me into my warm soft bed, took my vitals while telling us about their crazy shift of five fall calls!
After they left, we did get into my oils, but for other body discomforts. I turned out the lights, pulled up the covers and, gratefully, snoozed.
“Genius is an infinite capacity for taking pains.”
I wonder what this proverb is trying to tell me? Genius…yeah; but, infinite pain?
P.S. If you’re aghast at my finding humor in this, there’s hope for you, yet. It usually takes me years to appreciate “writer’s rumor.” It was ten years before I “discovered” Seinfeld (1989-1998), then Friends (1994-2004) and, later, Raymond (1996-2005).
