'I've Fallen and I Can't Get Up'

I had a 'senior moment' yesterday morning. I climbed out of bed and left the bedroom to visit the bathroom. Feeling slightly wobbly, I moved to brace myself against the wall. Instead of pressing firmly, my hand slid along the wall and lost contact, and I followed it down, landing like the proverbial ton of bricks and momentarily losing consciousness. Bonnie heard me fall and came rushing down the hallway to find me lying half in and half out of the bathroom, my eyes closed and my body motionless. After her initial shock, she checked to see that I was breathing and felt for a pulse. After placing a fluffy towel beneath my head and a damp washcloth on my forehead, she waited and prayed.

I eventually revived, feeling as groggy as I have ever been. Bonnie hurried to help me up, but I insisted that she not attempt to lift me; in 2003 I tried to help her up and something in my back emitted an audible snap and, for the rest of that year, pain was a constant companion and I could barely lift anything without paying an agonizing price. I didn't want the same to happen to Bonnie, so I asked for my cane. She gently helped lift me as I levered myself to an erect position and shuffled off to bed, where I slept for a further seven hours.

Aside from the aches and bruises, I seem not to have suffered anything serious, and I am now using my cane whenever I move about, something I have previously resisted doing, at least in the house, to give me a small illusion of independence. Alas, that illusion must now be relinquished.

Peace.