Tumble

Had a tumble in the kitchen yesterday; one minute I was upright, next I was flat on my face on the floor swearing mildly. Not sure how it happened, think I caught my foot in something and was carrying too much. I did have my phone with me, but no need to call anyone.

I have a long history of falling and it’s not a good one. Have fallen twice and broken my ankle very badly, once coming out of a restaurant with no drink taken, I stepped off the pavement and missed the step and next thing I knew, was lying in the road. With friends who took me to hospital. The second time with Mum, in the wilds of nowhere in Spain, I was just thinking life was getting back to normal as it had been a hard old twelve months, when I lost my footing and keeled over. Mum had to go and find a farmer, who bounced us down the hill in his van while I held on to my ankle. The Spanish medics were kind and efficient and the stitching was admired when I got back to the UK -‘ beautiful embroidery’.

I also went through a phase of falling and wrenching my already damaged knee badly. So I’m really careful when I’m out and about, particularly as I now use a stick. I keep my eyes locked on the pavement for wonky flagstones and just don’t go out at all if there’s ice or snow.

But indoors I let my guard down and falling in the kitchen surprised me. No serious damage, just feeling a bit foolish and stiff and lots of spectacular bruising. Should I let my friends know or keep it to myself? Decided to let my lovely guards  (four of them take it in turns to be texted every morning that I’m still alive)  in on the secret – as I will see some of them this week and they will notice the bruises.

They all shower me with love and concern and I realise yet again how lucky I am. One suggestion even makes me laugh – a cotton wool and plastic wrapping onesie.

 

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