Fall Comes in September
When I lived in Washington State, fall meant the changing colors of leaves. In Arizona, it means the changing colors of license plates as the snowbirds return. If you have IBM, it means a big change in how your day-to-day life goes.
I had my first fall last week. Not being able to do anything halfway, I fell flat on my face in the Portland airport. I put my right hand out to catch myself (funny how that is an instinct and turns out to be a nightmare), but it did not keep my face from slamming into the floor. I have read about many who are surprised to suddenly find themselves on the ground when they fall; it was a surprise to me too.
The other surprise was how vulnerable I was - how sometimes the only fix has to come from the outside, from people willing to be helpful - and how many people don’t stop to help, either unaware of the situation or unwilling to take the time or put themselves in trying social situations.
Some people help, though. I shouted out for ice. A woman from the nearby coffee shop got some, put it into a surgical glove she was able to find under the counter, and brought it out to me. Even though it was leaking from all the fingers, I put it against my eye so I wouldn’t end up with a big shiner, and I happily accepted the paper towels she ran back over to me to help with the leaking.
Finally, a caregiver who was pushing a woman through the concourse in a wheelchair asked me if I was alright. “No,” I told him. “I can’t get up.” It was good luck that this trained professional walked by - he put his hands under my armpits and got me to my feet.
By this time, the contents of my purse, which had been strewn across the floor, were being collected by passersby and handed back to me, so I stuffed them into my purse and went back to rushing toward my plane, which I boarded in the knick of time.
By some luck - the second instance of luck in this entire situation - there was a seat about three rows back that everyone had avoided because the woman sitting on the aisle had a cane at her side. So I sat in the window just three rows back, and the swelling and bruising and pain began to deepen.
The woman with the cane turned out to be a former special education teacher, and she adopted me. She got ice from the flight attendant. When the flight attendant saw me close up, she insisted on calling her colleagues at my destination and had them arrange for EMTs to meet me at the gate. I was taken off the plane in a wheelchair, and when the EMTs took my history and, more importantly, my blood pressure, they took me to the hospital. Whose blood pressure wouldn’t be through the roof if they’d had their first IBM fall!? My daughter’s blood pressure followed suit when the EMTs told her to go back through security, back to her car, and to the hospital to meet me there.
I was in the ED for five hours, and all tests pointed to a potential fracture. The pain was intense, my wrist was humongous, my skin was purple, and my face looked as though I’d gone several rounds in the gym with a heavyweight! They sent me home in a splint. (I’ve had two subsequent X-rays, and they still aren’t sure if it’s broken!)
One thought came into my mind over and over from the moment I hit that floor: it has begun. Most of my symptoms were in my hands and throat to this point, but now my legs were giving way, an inevitable part of the disease process that up to this point, I had been able to put out of my mind.
A lot of swearing ensued once I got home and a fair bit of crying. My daughters and husband said no more traveling alone, which I know is the right thing, but it was nonetheless upsetting to hear.
Once things calmed down a bit, my husband got out the cane I had used when I had my hips replaced, and we watched videos on how to use it. It’s surprisingly difficult to get it right. I have a call into the neuromuscular clinic to get a new assessment of my progress, even though it’s a bit sooner than they normally recommend, and so that I can meet with the occupational therapist to get a handle on assistive devices that I may need sooner rather than later.
It’s a tough pill to swallow. All of it. It’s hard balance to accepting what is happening to me and fighting defeat and depression. I remembered that I’d made a list of things to keep me on track mentally and emotionally, which I’d put in my first post. I will refocus on these and remind myself to embrace them.
Attitude Is Everything: A positive mindset is a strong ally when things are tough.
Embrace Daily Joys: Experiencing what you love can light up even the darkest days.
Cherish Relationships: Expressing love and gratitude is a salve for both you and others.
Hobbies within Reach: Pursuing passions tailored to your abilities infuses life with purpose.
The Gift of Giving: Volunteering can give a sense of fulfillment and being capable.
“All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.”
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.
