Listen to Your Intuition
I heard myself yelling, "No! No! No! Shit! Shit!" Then I heard a loud crack. I hit the tile with my nose and my left knee at exactly the same time. Then I fell backward and hit my head on the bathroom cabinet.
I yelled for Fred. He had been asleep in his recliner, so he woke up confused. Then he realized I was asking for help.
"Where are you?" he called.
"The bathroom," I answered.
As it turns out, my focus on perfection had a cost. The throw rug in front of the shower wasn't pushed all the way against the wall. I wrinkled it up in the middle with my foot and stepped on it to straighten it out. Then, as I stepped backward, my foot caught the wrinkle.
Down I went.
Something completely unimportant had caused me to fall. A throw rug. Not exactly the dramatic enemy I would have chosen.
I cannot get up off the floor by myself anymore. I told Fred to find my old walker and bring it to me. Together, we managed to get me upright and settled into my recliner. He brought out frozen peas for my face and knee, and the icing began.
The funny thing is that I had hated that rug for at least four years. For four years, I had been saying, "We need a real bathmat here." For four years, we kept putting it off.
Lesson learned.
Sometimes that little voice in our head is trying to tell us something. Sometimes intuition isn't mysterious at all. Sometimes it's simply noticing a safety hazard every day and failing to do anything about it.
Needless to say, the throw rug was replaced that very afternoon.
As the day turned into evening—and of course this happened on a Friday afternoon when every medical office in the world seems to close for the next three days—my face began to swell. So did my knee. Because I take blood thinners, my body immediately entered what appeared to be an Olympic hematoma building competition.
I spent the rest of the day sitting, icing, and elevating. By bedtime, Fred helped me into bed. Later that night, when I tried to get up to use the bathroom, I discovered I couldn't do it by myself and had to wake my sleeping prince.
The next several days were spent mostly sitting, icing, elevating, and using the walker. Somewhere along the way, I realized I had also sprained my wrist. By Monday I made it to an urgent care clinic. X-rays showed no fractures in the knee. The nose, however, was broken—but thankfully not displaced. I was instructed to follow up with both my primary care physician and an orthopedic specialist.
Within a couple of days I had a telehealth visit with my primary doctor. One look at me and he asked if I had gone a few rounds with Mike Tyson. I appreciated that he still had his sense of humor. His advice was the same: orthopedist for the knee and ENT for the nose.
The challenge, of course, was actually getting appointments. As a new patient, the orthopedic office couldn't see me right away. Fifteen days later, I finally saw the physician assistant, who confirmed there was still a significant amount of pooled blood in the knee and told me it would simply take time to heal.
Then I remembered I had seen an ENT years ago for allergies. Since I was already an established patient, I got an appointment that same week. The ENT I had been referred to? They were booking into late July. Sometimes it pays to have a medical history.
Now, weeks later, I still hurt almost everywhere. Walking is still difficult. But the walker has been folded up and put away, which feels like progress. Physical therapy is helping. Hyperbaric oxygen therapy is helping. Frozen peas continue to be one of the most versatile medical devices ever invented.
To add insult to injury, my massage therapist had foot surgery in May and won't be back to work until at least July. The timing could not have been worse.
So here's my advice from someone who learned the hard way:
When your intuition tells you something is unsafe, fix it.
Don't put it on next month's to-do list. Don't wait until it's convenient. Don't assume you'll remember later.
Fix it.
And while you're at it, plan ahead for the mobility aids you may someday need. Walkers, grab bars, shower chairs—whatever applies to your situation. Once you've fallen is not the time to begin shopping for them. I learned a valuable lesson from a throw rug.
The good news is that this, too, will pass.
Healing takes longer than I would like, but it is happening. The bruises are fading. The swelling is improving. Every week is a little better than the one before. And before too long, I'll be back to my regular walking routine and my E-gym program. Just without that rug.
“All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.”
— J. R. R. Tolkien
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This blog post is based on personal experiences and is not meant to provide medical advice.
Always consult your healthcare professional for personalized guidance on your health journey.
