Times I have fallen

I have fallen two times since being in Eugene. I’m age 62 so this is no small thing. The absolute terror, checking if bones have broken, did I lose conscious. Embarassment at my own stupidity, frailty, mortality.

Should I install grab bars, wear a helmet when going out, use a walker?

I’m not there yet. Both instances involved running.

I had just gotten my vaccine and was feeling invincible; I went on a run to celebrate I’d made it through a plague year. I’d made it! Then, bam! I was paying no attention to my feet and the sidewalk. My toe had caught some broken pavement and, not being at all aware, my head slammed onto the ground like a bouncing ball. No one was around, but it must have been hard—all the neighborhood dogs started barking. Dazed, I quickly got up and looked around. Everything seemed all there, so I took off. Later I had a bulging blue/green bruise ripening on my forehead. I looked like a domestic abuse victim.

Then a few weeks ago I had a terrific run. I’ve taken to running in late evening as the sun is down and the air cooler. I’d just gotten back and was showering—perhaps, once again, my head was elsewhere. That head ended up in the toilet. Not literally but close. Suddenly I did an alley-oop, slipping clear out of the shower and over the side of the tub cracking my head on the side of the toilet. I saw stars. I was so mad at myself. Luckily again, no one was around to increase my embarrassment or self-consciousness. I toweled off and felt the back of my head. A raised crease was forming. The next day I bought non-slip strips at the hardware store and installed them.

I know these incidents are random, but I wonder if the universe is trying to tell me something—hopefully not to stop running, because as bad as the falls have been, it’s good for my health.

phot by Fred Burkhart, in front of 920 W. Wilson