Anyone that knows me can attest to the fact that I am not graceful; in fact, one might say I’m a klutz. This is not something that has come with age, but I have honed to a fine art since childhood.
My first nickname was Scabs. This was due to the constant state of my kneecaps. Of course, I wore them as a badge of honor from the many adventures I enjoyed during my years on the farm. There was that time I fell through the hay chute in the barn and promptly landed in the feeding trough which in turn startled the cows that my dad was milking, who in turn kicked my dad into the gutter. I was banned from the barn for several months. Though I am sure my dad was relieved I did not receive a scratch from my journey down the chute, I feel this banishment was a preemptive move on his part to save my neck.
My teenage years were no different. I am known for the incident in front of the major department store in Traverse City. I somehow got my sandal caught in a crevice of the sidewalk which propelled me over a demure older lady that froze when she saw my substantial frame about to crush her. I contorted myself into a very unnatural shape to miss her, but in the process tore my sandal and removed several layers of skin on my elbows.
During a trip to Mackinaw Island, I required a visit to the Island Infirmary to get bandaged from a collision between a carriage and my bicycle. They refused to let me leave until I had a tetanus shot due to the fact I had landed in a pile of horse dung. I tried to explain I was allergic to tetanus, and it took a call to my family doctor to verify it. Much to my mother’s relief, I did not get lock jaw.
On a spring break trip to Florida with college friends, I got to see Disney World from a wheelchair. I had attempted to jump a ditch the night before and did a number on my ankle. When we arrived at Disney, it was evident that I was not going to make it around the grounds, so we headed to the first aid station. They assumed I had injured myself in the parking lot and provided a wheelchair and VIP access to attractions.
Adulthood did not find me with a sudden sense of balance. I was decorating my first classroom when the student’s desk I was standing on flipped and threw me to the ground, trapping my leg inside the desk which resulted in rupturing most of my lymph nodes in my leg. I taught my first six weeks from a wheelchair.
I also took a group of students to an indoor playground that included a giant maze and tunnels to explore. I joined in on their fun and found myself trapped in a tunnel. It took the other teacher pushing with all her might to free me from that prison. I did receive a standing ovation from the students as I unceremoniously rolled down the incline.
Motherhood did not change my inability to stay upright. While vacationing in St Louis I was focusing my camera to get that perfect shot of the Gateway Arch. I was so excited that I got the arch, the sun’s reflection off the top, and the beautiful foliage of the park in the same frame. I simply backed up to get a proper focus and fell backwards over my seven-year-old and ended doing several backward somersaults down the hill! It took seven months of tests and surgery to repair the damage I did to my vertebrae.
My family soon got used to Mom doing flying camels at various times and didn’t panic when something would happen. When meeting my now son-in-law for the first time, I had prepared a wonderful lunch. As I sat down to get to know this young man, I found myself falling backwards as the legs of the chair broke off. Various pieces of chair shot across the floor. The look of surprise on the young man’s face turned to puzzlement as the rest of the family remained calm and continued to eat. As he looked at my daughter, she simply said, “Oh, that’s just the way Mom is.” I must not have scared him away because they were married the next year.
As I have attained the age when falling can mean major injury, I find myself hesitant to answer the doctor’s question, “Have you fallen in the last three months?” I feel it should be stated differently for those of us who are balance challenged. Perhaps, “Have you fallen more than usual the last three months?” would be more appropriate. I have gotten used to the sticker on the hospital door that loudly states FALL RISK in bright red letters. I have learned the value of walking aids to assist me in my journey around the world.
I have also realized that others consider me an expert when it comes to dealing with the aftermath of a fall. My sister-in-law fell last week and the first thing she did was call me for advice on how to navigate a cast on her wrist and what can be done for the extensive bruising on her face. She ended the call with “I called you because you have had SO MUCH experience with this stuff.”
Here’s the thing: For those of us who are balance challenged, we have a jump on those coordinated folks that are reaching the age when balance is compromised. Yes, that’s another price for staying on this earth for many years. Be aware that falls can happen anywhere, but especially at home. Don’t hesitate to use that walker or cane if it saves you from surgery or a hard cast on your arm. Be aware of your limitations and remove any hazards in your house. Always consult a physician, especially if you are on blood thinners. Just because you didn’t break anything, doesn’t mean you are fine. I speak from experience. Always remember: gravity will get you every time!
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Editor’s Note: This is one of a series of articles and opinions written by a group of retired and current teachers — LaNae Abnet, Ken Ballinger, Billy Kreigh, Kathy Schwartz, and Anna Spalding. Their intent is to spur discussions at the dinner table and elsewhere. You may also voice your thoughts and reactions via The News-Banner’s letters to editor.
