It wasn’t a practice when I was young, so I don’t know at what age people find themselves asked at medical appointments whether they have had any recent falls.
Perhaps I am more cautious, what with growing older and having a fragile spine, but I have had far fewer falls since my return to New York.
In the past, I staged some spectacular ones, though I never hurt myself significantly. One such tumble ought to have caused noteworthy pain when it resulted in a 3 inch, deep laceration of my left shin, but even when it became infected, I barely felt it because I have neuropathy.
Who knew that could be a good thing!
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The only reason that injury occurred was because something fell on top of me. I am actually very good at falling. It’s an art I have perfected with a great deal of practice, but as I said it’s something I had given up. Until this morning.
As you age, time accelerates. Everyone knows it and this year flew by faster than ever, despite the utter tedium it comprised. That is until this week, which has felt unending, perhaps because of Christmas being on Thursday.
Why that should affect a retired old woman, I don’t know. Perhaps it was some other reason that caused me to wake up feeling dispirited this morning.
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But the arrival of daylight revealed a hard frost. Some of you will think me weird, but this cheered me up immensely.
Frost is beautiful!
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It was while capturing images of it that I put my foot down a groundhog hole. Not one of those in front of the kitchen, since they are carefully marked for just this reason.
Luckily, I put my foot down square in the middle of the hole and it went down straight without awkward twisting of the ankle. So I said a rude word, climbed back out and carried on.
This, I decided, did not constitute a fall that needed confessing to.
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What results from such a confession? I’ve been wondering about that.
If I decide to be honest, I may discover, since no sooner had I yanked my foot out of the groundhog hole, than I found myself floundering in six inches of new snow and wondering how I’d got there.
But that is one of the good things about snow. It makes a great cushion when you fall in it. I suppose an object lurked beneath to catch my foot. I’m not sure it qualifies as a fall!
More of a frolic.
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What is the physician’s interest in falls? Is it regarded as an indication that the patient is becoming more doddery or weak, that their vision or concentration is failing? Or is it just to make a note for the record?
Long ago, I seem to recall a social worker fussing about potential fall hazards in someone’s home, though for the life of me I cannot remember whose. If a social worker came to evaluate the suitability of my current situation with all its cat-related booby-traps, I’m afraid they would be most unimpressed. But I think I am not yet needing such inspections.
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If I reach a time where I have to be kept in a safe place, without my cat companions, I would sooner call it quits. I have no interest in that sort of life and certainly not in being a nuisance to anyone.
As time speeds by, all of that does sometimes worry me, the thought of my time running out before my cats. As much as I dread losing them, leaving them behind would be far worse.
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Perhaps this is what had me dispirited this morning. It happens at the end of every December, because the new year marks the march of time.
Some years ago, my primary care physician urged me to see a psychiatrist as I was in the difficult process of weaning off oxycodone and it triggered a lot of old issues. The man I ended up seeing put me off psychiatry for good.
After a brief, frosty conversation in which I had stated that I realised some of my concerns were age-related, he dismissed me, saying that as yet no cure had been discovered for old age. He said it looking down his nose at me as if I was dirt of his shoe, without the hint of a smile to indicate humour. I wish I could have spit in his eye which is what he deserved.
Sensitive I may be, but I know what the man said and he was a swine.
He was added to my lengthening list of ex-physicians and I managed the episode very well without professional support. Grant and the pussycats got me through.
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One good thing about the passage of time is that bad experiences recede into the past.
We are bound to remember them, but they lose their hold and with age you gain perspective.
What matters is the here and now.
Tomorrow is not predictable, so worrying is pointless.
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Thank you, Carolyn, for the beautiful photos of the frost beauty. Your thoughts on old age are wise, but worrying before you reach that point is a waste of time, as you have Grant, and judging how much you can do, including walking, I would say that you are remarkably fit.
Joanna
Thank you for this post, today, Carolyn.
I really appreciate your thoughts, on the passage of time, as I am your age as well. 💜
I’m sorry you “put your foot in it”, but you definitely did not “fall down on the job”! There is no doubt that we are more prone to falls as we get older, and part of it can be put down to confidence. Over time, I have added aids to help keep us safer; I’ve put in a step outside the back door to decrease the height, and have put in grab handles on either side of the door. I’ve had the garden path remodelled to be a gentle slope rather than stepped, and have fitted an extra stair rail so we have one on each side. We, and our surroundings, are a work in progress!
Ah! The difference between falling and having a fall. Thank goodness for “Grant and the pussycats!”
Such a familiar conundrum. falls. Because I am 78 and had polio falls are a real concern and threat, and all my health care providers ask about them, almost always. By the way, there are compassionate, caring psychiatrists and other mental health providers out there. Sometimes one must go shopping, interviewing people until one clicks.
For sure. I had a couple of therapists who helped me a great deal and I am grateful to them but they couldn’t change my life which is what I really needed!
The frost looks beautiful in your photos, but I am glad we have been above zero so far. The only time I fell was if Ollie tripped me up. The last time was not that long before he died, when I fell protecting him from an aggressive dog and hurt my left knee. That has never really healed, and still hurts sometimes more than two years later. But I would risk any falls to have dear Ollie back again.
Best wishes, Pete.
I have scars from a number of my cats and I treasure them. Sometimes I think I would so love to have them back but I couldn’t bear losing them again. It is hard losing so many, yet I rather think that losing just the one is more difficult and I’m sure your pain is still raw.
You have to have a touch of frost for the brussel sprouts!