What is it I fear most? Falling: over, off, onto, under, against, for. All variations on the theme of falling, none of which is the pathway to happiness. Free falling is not: Free. Far from it. Gravity, which instigates, and finishes a fall, does not allow freedom: only an apparition of such. I fell 5000m once. I was attached to some metal and cloth by a thin chord and a great deal of faith. I liked it very much. I continued to fall in this way for many years. One day an eagle passed by, looked at me curiously, tore a hole in some of the cloth, then left. As it parted it turned to me and said: “eagles fly; humans fall”. My friend, Joe Scott, who also flew like me, wasn’t attacked by an eagle. He fell onto the beach at Byron Bay 5 years ago and died. He loved falling. More than I did. I don’t think he understood gravity. These days I fall shorter distances. Stairs are a favourite. I come down a lot faster than I go up. The last time I fell on stairs I woke in an Italian hospital with the cleaner mopping under my bed. “Dovi sono?” I asked. “A letto,” she answered, with a wry Italian smirk. Italy is a good place to fall. There’s lots of people about. The odds are that someone will approach and ask: “Stai bene?” I have drawn many a crowd in Rome by falling. To the Italians, falling is a curiosity that happens to others. “Come e successo?”which results in a public debate of the modes of falling in Rome. Remonstrating before a crowd of Romans is pointless. It is best to bleed and be patient until someone decided the most likely cause. I never expected that walking would be an issue. Toddlers fall. That’s why they are called toddlers. They toddle. I have become a toddler once more. The difference is noticeable, though. I’m 75, not 1. I’m 175 cm tall, which makes the impact of falling more significant. Momentum and impulse. Newton’s first and second law. Yet, it is still necessary to walk, especially in Rome. Only Italians drive in Rome, and a few insane tourists looking for a cultural experience.
PART 2 “Camminare e per idioti”, is a common call to pedestrians. A walk in the park in Rome for most pedestrians is a pleasurable experience. For me it’s akin to crossing a battlefield, in full defence swing, without a helmet or flack jacket. The very thought of imbibing any scenery on foot starts my teeth and legs a’chattering. As the saying goes: “A walk in the park” is definitely not a walk in the park. If you catch my drift. Pathways in parks are notoriously booby-trapped. Sticks and stones just out of sight, small children, small animals, dogs on rope, faeces from aforementioned dogs and children, a fallen leaf, the shadow of a gum tree. All out to get me. A stone, the size of a melon. I exaggerate. An orange. A small fist. It matters not. My unwary left foot missed its calling as it gained angular momentum in one direction. I opposed its motion in the opposite direction of rotation. Later, I recall, one should ‘go with the flow’. A Zen meme. *obscenity* Zen. Ouch! Now,I know how a turtle feels when inverted. How very awkward for us both. For a moment I lay still among the gravel and wet leaves, feeling the adrenalin ease and the pain threshold swing with it. Ouch! I rolled on my side and leant on one elbow. A trickle of blood slid down my arm. I tasted salt. I touched my forehead and retrieved more blood. Anti-coagulants working as required. Just not now, if you please. For some strange reason, I looked around for the culprit who had put me in this predicament. As if it mattered. A metre from my bloody head perched a sphere of almost white with a streak of my body fluid smeared across its surface like a warrior's war paint. “*Obscenity* you, rock. That hurt.” I reached out to pick it up. Throwing rocks is so satisfying in a moment of crisis and anxiety. “Don’t you dare”. I heard the voice, and understood the words, but there was no one around. “Don’t *obscenity* the rock. And, for your information, I’m a stone. Quartz. With fragments of pyrites” Fools gold, I thought. Who’s the fool? “Yes, fools fold. Guess who the fool is?” Rocks don’t talk I thought. Out loud presumably. “Only to fools who blame stones for their misfortunes.” Concussion. A blood clot in my brain. I’m dying and the rock is the last thing that speaks to me. What sort of justice is that? “What sort of justice is there if you blame me for your absent-mindedness and lack of attention.” Will you stop? I don’t talk to rocks. “Stone. And you do now.” “Excuse me, Mister. Are you talking to that stone?” The voice sounded different. Human. I looked left to see a small boy, no more than 4 or 5 pointing at me. Or maybe the rock, er, stone. “It does seem that way. I think I’m just dazed from the fall. I appeared to have hit my head on the stone in question.” “Mum! The man is talking to the stone I told you about. He’s talking to it. See.” A crowd was gathering, as they do in Rome where there is a chance to see blood or meet a friend. “Sta parlando alla pietra ” I heard from a woman holding an umbrella like a gladiator. “I am not” “He is. He said so.” Small boys should be kept at home, tied to the dog. “Ok. I am. I’ve just cracked my *obscenity-ing* head on this rock - stone. See! Blood. My blood.” I pointed at the culprit stone. I realised no one but the boy, and the stone, understood a word I had just confessed. “Lui e matto “ in unison from the crowd. Italians love to sing as much as they enjoy a crowd. The crowd broke into spontaneous song to the tune of Oh Solo Mia. Then, as quickly as interest had been gained, it was lost. Once again it was just me, the boy, and the stone. And the resonating sounds of Rome, the traffic, and a faint remnant of a familiar tune. “Louis. Come here now. I told you not to talk to strange men in the park.” Or stones I thought. Wise advice, mum. “Well?” Don’t talk to me. I don’t believe in talking rocks. Stones either. “Fortune is the result of action carried out in the right place”. Just what I need. The Philosophers *Obscenity* Stone. I watched the Stone roll into the traffic. I might throw like a girl but I can roll a stone like Greg Chappell.
You might be surprised to learn that several of us here also have an issue with falling, if not your eloquence.
I’m not surprised, Mary. As we age our muscle tone deteriorates, our sight alters and our proprioseptic senses deteriorate. In simple terms we lose out place in space. Having a third leg helps. Walking slowly and avoiding rough and unfamiliar territory is advised. Exercise and weight control is a good thing. Although it seems contra-indicative, movement is the best therapy. I have better balance on my bike that’s I do walking. The bike, once it’s moving, has its own dynamic which prevents it from falling over. Mind you, there are still times when nothing seems to go right and the ground seems harder than it used to be. My advise is that if you’re prone to falling, fall well.
LOL, Thank you, I will. I recommend my third leg to a lot of people walking on rough ground. It is unavoidable for me on a farm. But if ever my leg would improve, I might still carry a cane, as I use it for many things. I might start using a second in the spring to rebuild atrophy from both sides. What I find humorous are all the calls out of 'Be careful."
Yeah, like you’re not going to be careful so you can experience the pain and humiliation associated with being careless. Mind you, when I’m out of sight from marauding eyes I do like to test myself. As for the cane, I use mine as a cane toad golf stick. I can hit a cane toad a good 10 metres when I’m well balanced. Bufo marinus is the species and it’s as ugly as …… well, only a mother would love it.
Importing cane toads was not a well thought out plan. Nor was our allowing importing pet snakes--pretty much any invasive species. Rats just took cruises around the world.
The trick is the landing place. I prefer a pile of brush to a face first hard ground. Past moth I've experienced both.
Perhaps we should have a photo gallery of wounds (excluding ops) encountered in the daily course of things. Award badges for most blood, most removed skin, bone breakage and pride hurt. My recent embarrassing moment: I’m out on the bike feeling frisky. The skate park loomed in the distance. Why not? I asked myself. No sight on a response so I headed for the small ramp. Made it to the top. Feeling quite chuffed. A few teens eyed me off as if I’d just landed from Mars. The large ramp spoke to me. “Go ahead. What can you lose?” Speed up, balance right, eyes alert, almost there. The front wheel clipped the rail. I’d made it. The back wheel refused to accommodate. Down I went. I lay still for a moment assessing the situation. “Are you OK, mister?” I opened my eyes to the crowd of teens gathering for a gawk. “Is he dead? Not, I’m not. The red you see is mostly embarrassment. I hobbled away as if I was just nursing some indignity. Turns out I left a trail of blood and carried a concussion and broken radius.
That was funny, and glad you came out ok without permanent injury, I hope. Proof we go back into childhood, my bike was sold after my last hard fall. I would never even get near a skateboard.
Blood flow can't be part of my judging. I got tossed from a horse, breaking my ribs with my elbow and not doing my hip much good either. Much later, I was cutting trees and moved a cinder block so I would not trip on it. Tripped on it while backing up, later in the trimming, and finished my hip. Didn't do my shoulder much good either...
My goodness Mary you sound like me far as accidents prone. I was standing still, reached over a little and 'timber', over I went like an old tree.
I walk with a cane most of the time, since my bout with Eosinophilic Fasciitis. That along with a few other issues make it difficult to walk at times. Some days do not really need it, others use anyway, as falling is my biggest fear. I have only fell once since having the EF, but still a big fear to me, like many. I do try and work my legs good. Since moving into this house with some stairs I make myself go up and down. I use the cane and the bar along the wall. I throw anything that needs o be carried down stairs so my hands are free. My BFF who is 76 fell Cmas Day and broke her hip in two places. Even more difficult for those who live alone. Anyways,I share all of you concerns and dread.