THE QUEEN OF KLUTZ STILL REIGNS

Grace personified I am not.  I should have bought stock in Johnson & Johnson because I have certainly done my part to keep their first aid supplies in high demand.  Bandage-free days were few and far between in my childhood – klutziness and asphalt playgrounds are not a good combination.

Then there was Charm Class at Palmer with Ms. Walker.  Yes, in order to get an Associate Degree in Business, that was a required class, part of which involved learning to walk properly – back straight, shoulders back, chin up and eyes straight ahead.  Guess what happens when I don’t watch the ground upon which I am walking – considering that even when I watch it, I have issues.  I managed to trip over open file drawers. Navigating stairs wasn’t a piece of cake either.  It didn’t matter if I was going up or down – I’m an equal opportunity tripper.  

Jogging? That was a short-lived exercise regimen.  My knees hit the ground more often than my feet.  Bleachers?  Once you have fallen from the top bleacher splitting your lip inside and out, you shy away from those or at least sit near the bottom.  And let’s don’t forget icy parking lots.  I can sprain a pair of ankles in one fell swoop on a patch of ice that I’d swear was not there when I got out of the car 20 minutes before.

So now in my 60s, I seem to have graduated to sidewalk joints.  You know, that point where two sections come together and as time goes by, one raises up while the other sinks down.  They have caused me to become way too familiar with more than one stretch of sidewalk over the last few years. Banged up knees and elbows, broken glasses and torn pants were the minor falls.  There was the time that I took all the skin off my nose, chipped a tooth, split my lip and bruised the right side of my face from brow to chin. A neighbor stopped to offer me a ride home, but not having looked in a mirror, I assured him I was fine and headed home on foot.  A week later, when I thought I could stand to let the dentist check out my teeth, I was happy to hear there was only one chip and no cracked teeth. 

My latest encounter with a sidewalk involved talking while walking, fortunately I was not chewing gum as well.  Who knows what injuries I would have incurred with that trio.  Having hit the concrete hard enough for the Great One to hear the thwack, he prevailed upon a very sweet neighbor to drive us back home.  Having just moved into the neighborhood, we have not met many of our neighbors yet, but she was willing to step up and help us.  Then he insisted on an ER visit.  I voted to “put a rag on it,” Motrin and an icepack. But we headed to the ER with a bag of ice wrapped in a rag.  I guess we can consider that a compromise.

At the St Francis ER, I was promptly, checked in, evaluated CTed, cleaned up and superglued.  There is still a brain in there, no swelling, no bleeding and my orbits are intact.  The laceration above my brow was closed with Dermabond – no stitches, no Xylocaine – and I went on my merry way.  As you can see from the picture, I have quite a shiner!  Now if I could just come up with a better story as to how I acquired it.