Accident prone, Klutzy, Bionic or Lucky?

They say bad things happen in threes, so I guess I am finished for a while. Perhaps it is part of aging, but I have become either careless or terribly clumsy, or it is a combination of both! I have never before had the misfortune of being labeled a Klutz, but things have changed. I guess I now qualify.

I have had three horrendous BIG splat type of falls – two from elevated heights – the kind where ANYONE ELSE would be horribly injured. Here is where luck comes in. Either I am bionic, or made of iron, but I have been lucky in not getting concussions, broken bones, or major injuries.

The first BAD fall, a year ago, I hastily put together one of those snap ladders so I could put a light bulb in a high spot. I was staying at the spare room in my son Brett’s apartment and it was pitch black and neither of us had a flashlight. I was staying there to take care of my son who was scheduled to go into surgery the next day.

I guess I didn’t pay attention to making sure each piece of the ladder actually snapped, as per instructions, so I climbed it before darkness fell completely that early evening, and the ladder disintegrated while I was six feet up. I went splaying backwards, with pieces of metal snap ladder raining down on me – as if the actual fall wasn’t painful enough. OUCH! Brett was watching, and I looked at his face while I was on the ground figuring out if I was alive. It was like time suspended horror registered on his face.

“MOM, are you okay?” He scooted to my side – he was at the time scooting around on a office chair so as not to walk. I picked pieces of metal off me gingerly, picked myself up and giggled at my carelessness so as not to alarm my son. (who did I mention before was ABOUT TO GO INTO MAJOR SURGERY HIMSELF the next day.)

I was lucky – only big black and blue marks resulted. Apparently, I fall REALLY WELL.

(Brett’s still traumatized over the mental picture of this fall in his mind – ask him.)

Next, I think you all heard about my disaster while renovating our condo. I had the bright idea of standing on a folding chair while painting with a big gallon of paint in my hand. One slight tip back and I went flying backwards over the chair, landing on the kitchen floor, paint everywhere. After a quick check of body parts, I found I was still intact, and again, after my husband screamed and yelled at me for carelessness, I only bruised.

Last week, I ran the shower like I always do before stepping in on the slick ceramic tiles. That day for some reason, when I stepped in, it was as if I stepped on a banana peel. I went alley-oop in a slide, up in the air and then and then SPLAT, with my wrists and hands breaking my fall, and my head banging against the glass shower door.

I screamed and made such a crashing commotion, my husband came running in.

The diagnosis when I dusted myself off and got over the shock of the accident? Bruised wrists. Sore upper back. Bruised pads on my hands to the point where I can’t comfortably applaud. No broken bones, no concussion.

I am one lucky, bionic, made-of-iron lady.

Statistics show that most accidents causing injury to people occur in the home. Yeah, I can see that. Now, maybe I will learn to be more careful and not tempt the fates.


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