I am not the most graceful person in the world. I own that. Through the years I’ve had my fair share of spills. I remember once falling down an entire flight of carpeted stairs without ever letting go of the handrail. That’s next level stuff.
Another time, in the middle of the night, I took my beloved dog outside to tinkle and slipped. Luckily, my husband noticed that I was missing from bed and discovered me motionlessly sprawled across the sleet covered wood deck. There wasn’t a snowball’s chance, at eight months pregnant, that I could ever pull myself back to vertical, without assistance.
I have learned to be careful. But sometimes careful isn’t enough.
Standing in the furniture store four years ago, I could not take my eyes off of this gorgeous leather chair and a half. Which is just fancy speak for something to sit on that is bigger than a chair and smaller than a loveseat. The chair and a half came with a matching ottoman. Which sounds better than detached footstool. Needless to say the two pieces came home with us.
Little did I know then that this chocolate-brown combo would soon become the bane of my existence. Being that I have strong OCD tendencies which require me to make sure that every thing stays in its very specific place, coupled with the fact that I have four children who don’t understand this logic, I spend a lot of time repositioning that chair and ottoman.
The two pieces have to be sitting perfectly parallel to one another, at the correct distance apart in order to allow one to walk between them and sit. At all times.
Perfection. And you judging me right now is not very Christian-like.
I reposition the chair and stool no less than six times a day. I should probably just go ahead and nail them to the floor. That seems rational at times.
Last night while walking through the Great Room with my hands full of laundry, I noticed that my children had once again moved the stool. I am a master multitasker. It made perfect sense to me that I could realign the furniture using my knees, since my arms were full, and not have to come back. Great idea. I slid between the two pieces, sidestepping as I went.
Except feet aren’t really designed to walk sideways. Especially when one is wearing a pair of grandma slippers.
accident: an unfortunate incident that happens unexpectedly and unintentionally, typically resulting in injury or damage.
Upon trying to sidestep between the chair and ottoman, I stepped on the back of MY OWN shoe which prevented me from picking up that foot. Being that my body had not gotten the memo that my left foot wasn’t immediately able to perform, my body weight had already shifted to the right side. This event caused my granny slipper to begin to slide and gravity took over from there.
With my hands full there was absolutely no way to break my fall. It all happened so fast. The best scenario would have been for me to land on my hip which is the most cushioned, forgiving part of my body. But alas, that was not to be as my body was angled in a forward position. All that was left to take the full blow and all of my weight was my right knee. One of the only bony parts of my body.
Upon impact with the hardwood floor, I heard a sound escape my mouth that could only be described as unmistakable. Excruciating pain on impact.
By this time of night the kids were in their beds, waiting for sleep to come. However, upon hearing the thud and my cry, all of the boys came bolting down the stairs. Simultaneously, my husband came running from another direction. Except he ran right past me, as I had fallen between a chair and the wall. Well, that and I had forgotten to turn on the light. He just didn’t see me.
I heard him ask the boys: WHERE IS YOUR MOTHER? as he had assumed that I had fallen down the stairs. Cause how could anyone fall while standing between a chair and an ottoman and actually MISS both pieces of furniture?
One pointed to my location and all four came sprinting. Thank you to my sweet boys for repeatedly asking if I was okay and for sitting with me while I collected myself. A big shout out to my husband who single-handedly returned me to the standing position (again) because with the pain coursing through my leg I didn’t have the will to do it.
Here is my takeaway. The men of this house are my heroes and for them I am grateful. They raced to action when action was required. My daughter on the other hand, slept through the entire ordeal or at least pretended to sleep, as to not be bothered. Which concerns me for her future mate. And my life support cord.
Today, I awoke with a stiff knee that only hurts when I overextend, pivot or bend it. Which is basically the job description of a knee.
There is the exact point of impact. No bruise on the outside could mean that the inside is paying the trauma price. I should probably go to the bone and joint clinic to have it examined, yet here I sit with a bottle of Advil and an ice pack. I am contemplating replacing my grandma slippers with some form of adhesive, though. Or possibly a wheelchair.
I seem to be speeding down the highway towards a full body cast.