I have always wondered why old people are always falling over and breaking hips and such. This is because for most of my life, I’ve been quite nimble on my feet, and well-balanced to boot.
No more.
I have occasional (and mild) episodes of vertigo whereby I’ll change direction suddenly and stagger a little (no more) in my original direction. Worse, though, is I seem to have lost my balance and therefore my ability to keep on my feet when tripping, and — given my now-extensive tonnage — I fall to the floor like a sack of rocks.
Which is what happened to me the night before last. Coming out of a bathroom, I tripped and fell — HARD — onto our uncarpeted floor, landing squarely on my left hip.
Ouch. Fucking ouch.
New Wife, bless her little motherly soul, was quit distraught despite my telling her that I’ve suffered worse sports injuries (true). She packed me off to bed with Brother Tylenol ES for company, and that was that.
Nothing broken, I’m happy to report, and not even any bruising, perhaps because I immediately packed some ice onto the area. But sitting is painful, prolonged sitting is worse, and walking after having been seated for a while is worse still.
I feel much better today than I did yesterday, though, in that I haven’t had to take any analgesics for the pain. I had, I think, a narrow escape.
But lemme tell ya: this getting old thing isn’t for young people.
