After the Fall

It was a normal Wednesday. Hump Day. January 12th to be exact. I was working and had stepped out during a break for a little bit.

I was returning to my office, via a side driveway next to my building, when a small patch of black ice slid into my path. I didn’t see it, nor anticipate what was to come in the following 3 seconds. Or maybe it was 5? All I can recall was losing my balance and with nothing to grab hold of my left cheek and eye decided to get a closer look at the asphalt. Somehow, my hands did not break my fall, but my glasses did. The entire left lens of my eyeglasses was deeply scratched as if I dragged them over gravel. Which I essentially did. I stood up quickly, my glasses on the ground, and I heard a woman over my left shoulder shout, “Are you ok?” I replied something like, “I think so”…as she continued her journey. I couldn’t see anything because of the shock blur that occurs after an accident. I couldn’t pick that woman out of a lineup if you paid me. But no one else came running to my rescue — which I suppose I was happy about since embarrassment was beginning to wash over me.

“What the hell!” was all I could think. I began to brush the dirt off my face and felt a sense of crunch in my mouth. Please don’t tell me I broke a tooth — was all I could think. But my teeth were intact — it was just some rubble that I decided to lick up during my fall. I tried to pull myself together and walk into my office building so I could get upstairs and assess the damage. My pants were dirty from the wet ground and so was my face. A couple of the lobby security gentlemen, and a random employee that works in my building, attended to me since I had blood on my face, a scratch near my nose, that I must’ve wiped and spread. With no mirror, I could only imagine what I looked like. And yes, appearances do matter, even after an accident. I don’t know why. It’s second nature, I guess. I got upstairs to my office, proceeded to report the issue to HR and notified a colleague who nudged me to go home. Which was clearly the right thing to do, but my adrenaline was in hyper-drive and I think I walked around in circles for a good 20 minutes before I took her suggestion.

I felt more bruised and scraped than anything, so I didn’t think going to the ER or a clinic was necessary. One doesn’t think clearly in these situations. Obviously, if I had broken bones or was bleeding heavily, I would’ve been forced to go — but I wanted to avoid all of that. I don’t think I was ever so happy to wear a mask on the subway (it’s still COVID around here). I didn’t want anyone to see my red and scraped face. Again, embarrassment ruled and my ego was crumbling.

I managed to ice and calm myself down but the lingering “what if” questions circled my already swirling brain. What if I have a concussion? What if I did some type of facial damage? Why the hell did I hit that damn patch of ice and slide into home plate like a major leaguer trying to score the winning run in the World Series? What the hell happened?

Roll the videotape. Which I didn’t have. With all the cell phones out there, who’s to say I’m not a Boomerang on someone’s post — falling forward and standing back up, on an endless loop for all to see. I, of course, continued to replay it in my mind over the days to come — wondering how it all could’ve been avoided. Maybe if I walked a few feet to the right or left I would’ve missed it. Or if had my handbag (which I didn’t for some reason) it might’ve broken my fall, sparing my glasses and cheekbone. Maybe this, maybe that. None of that helps as you know. But our brains don’t always do as they’re told. It’s as if the mind has a mind of its own. Our brains can really be a bit of a bully at times.

Since the “event” I’ve seen my primary care doctor, who essentially didn’t do much since this “isn’t her field.” She did write a prescription for an x-ray, so there’s that. I’ve spoken to a Worker’s comp adjuster to get the ball rolling on payment for any upcoming bills and reimbursements; I received a couple of emails and some Get Well flowers from the building management where I work. They are being both kind and smart. Trying to avoid a lawsuit must be a daily battle to big companies in New York City. Accidents happen all the time. Insurance is applied. Lawyers are called. This is the world we live in.

So here I sit. On a cold Sunday in January, less than 2 weeks before my birthday and I’m feeling both sorry for myself and grateful at the same time. I’m upset I must deal with this — to have to worry and wonder and see doctors and heal in the weeks to come. I wish it hadn’t happened. And yet, I’m feeling grateful — that I didn’t sustain any major injury (that I’m aware of yet…fingers crossed. I’m superstitious.) So many folks aren’t so lucky when face-planting into the unyielding ground. I’m meditating and thanking the universe for my overall health…and feeling gratitude that at least until this point in my life, I’ve managed to stay upright — holding gravity at bay.

My new (or rather renewed motto) is “Don’t fall.” One of my doctor’s prescribes this advice regularly — especially to those of us who are no longer listed under the Spring Chicken category of humankind. We all fall at one time or another — but hopefully, by the grace of God, we catch ourselves, cutting off the post-accident stresses and bone repair. If we get a few laughs or stares as we tumble down a couple of steps or trip onto the sidewalk, that’s self-image damage we can live with. A broken face — not so much.

Since the fall, I’m extra careful of where and how I’m walking. I’m holding handrails, I’m paying extra attention to the ground in front of me. I’m not looking at my phone as I move through space. I’m working on balance and staying steady on my feet. And my brain is constantly whispering in my ear, “Hey, let’s not do that again, ok?”

Agreed.