So if you are following my social media you will have seen that I posted a photo of me with stitches last Monday. The situation has been on my mind ever since and I thought it was a good starting point for what I really wanted to do with my blog this year which was to speak a bit more about my life, disability and not only my cycling.
So what happened on Monday? Nothing earth shattering or ground breaking. . . wait, maybe I should go check my tiled floor, perhaps it was just that! I was on my way to shower when something caught my eye and distracted me and the next minute I was on the floor, looking at my own blood dripping onto the tiles.
Falling is something I have had to deal with ever since I started moving. So it is just part of my life, be it an irritating and sometimes painful part of life. But often it is the side effects, not the actual fall, that are more difficult to cope with.
Relationally:
So often I find myself on the floor still trying to work out how I got there, having to immediately comfort or reassure the other person that I am ok. How can I reassure you when I haven’t even checked if my members are still attached to me? Yes you might have just jumped out of your skin, but mine might be lying in pieces around me. Hang in there, I’ll be right back.
Verbally:
Sometimes it is the funniest part of the situation, what people say during the moments after a fall. This can range from
‘Why did you fall?’ To this my favourite reply is ‘because I am disabled.’ Sometimes I will know why I fell and sometimes I won’t.
To ‘Why didn’t you warn me?’ Um, excuse me but if I had time to warn you, don’t you think I would have warned myself and stopped the fall.’ J
And a favourite of mine, ‘what’re you doing down there?’ Um….. I got tired and needed a sit down.
This reminds me of a fall I had last week which led to a good chuckle. Anet and I were on our way back from our European cycling trip and we got stuck in Ethiopia for twenty four hours and we were chilling in our hotel room. She was already in bed and I had gotten up to put away some items and she asked me to throw her a small blanket. So in middle conversation I threw the blanket in her direction. Unfortunately the action of throwing the blanket put me off balance and I suddenly found my butt colliding with the ground. After maybe seeing that I was ok, I hope, the giggling started. From her point of view, Anet said that one moment I was there and the next I was gone out of her view. It was a case of now you see me, now you don’t.
Internally:
Sometimes this is the hardest and the most unseen aspect. Often after a fall I am a bit shaken. Sometimes I can fall, get up and just get on with life. I mean I have done it countless of times. But sometimes I can’t.
The unpredictability:
I think this is the aspect that gets both me and the people around me. I can do the same movements a hundred times, I can walk the same path a hundred times, I can walk slow and I can walk fast, but nothing predicts when I will fall.
The lingering fear:
After a hard fall, there is always a lingering fear that my next movement, my next walk, will cause a replay. Once I get up, note I said once I get up, and not once you have pulled me up – more about this later – I am often shaky, which leads to spasticity, which leads to more jerky movements, which lands me on the floor again.
Monday was the perfect example of this. Straight after the fall and even after we arrived home from the hospital I was afraid to walk. When a friend, who just interrupted her afternoon to take you to get stitches, and has an appointment across town in an hour, asks you if you are ok for her to leave , you obviously say ‘yes, I’ll be fine.’ You have lived alone for seven years so why would you not be ok? She leaves and you shuffle to your room not because you want to go to bed but because this was the last place you were before the fall so you tend to press the restart button there. Your mind starts wandering. The task you were doing that led you to the fall was walking to the shower -should I even attempt that task again or should I forgo that task for today? But I want a shower. . . . . . Ok so I want to do this, how do I?
The self doubt:
Suddenly a task that is so mundane seems so impossible and you see an obstacle at every turn. I went through the various options of getting to the shower without falling. My crutch was suddenly not stable enough, my office chair could hook on a tile and send me flying again. . . and then the only option left was just to walk the same path as two hours ago and hope for a different outcome. I managed to get to, in, and out of the shower without spreading myself across the floor but suddenly on the way back the nightmare begins again. I am now cold, more spastic and my feet are damp even though I have done my best to dry them. Now as I make my way through my kitchen corners and sharp edges are staring at me like red lights, walls seem closer and harder and my bed, oh my soft bed, seems so much further and out of reach. The relief when I reach it feels like I have reached the summit of a mountain.
The financial cost:
Something has been looping in my mind ever since I asked the receptionist at the hospital what the financial damage of my afternoon is. Her answer sends lights, no - scratch that, alarm bells ringing. Suddenly my SASSA grant has just about all been swallowed up into that hole I may have left in the ground and that was just one fall. What happens if I fall again and need another stitch up session. Highly unlikely seen that this is the first time in 35 years I am been stitched up from a fall but one never knows. My mother is always on at me about having a savings account but do I need to open a ‘stitch me up’ account as well?
Once dressed again, the pull of life pulls me towards the lounge where my computer with live streaming of the Giro d’Italia and the French Open, emails that must be done, and my fridge full of food awaits. I am tempted to take all I need with me so that I don’t have to make two trips back and forth and tempt fate but filling my hands alone can make the short trip treacherous. I decide that things can be picked up and put away later. The less I do now the better. So like a foal who has just been born and is still figuring out how to use its legs, I shuffle out my room hoping not to meet the floor too soon.