There must be something about getting older and falling. A couple months ago, I was up on a pedestal getting some things down out of a storage closet -the same storage closet I’ve been using for 18 years without injury or falling. As I was stepping down, I lost my balance and fell, twisting my ankle and hitting my head on the door frame. I’m not sure what happens to muscles, joints and bones upon impact, but for some reason, I couldn’t stand on that ankle. I couldn’t even move it, so I panicked, thinking it was broken. I yelled for help, but my husband was on the phone in his office, and the dogs decided to fill in for him. Lucky me. (For those of you who don’t know, we chose the breed consistent with our name -Great Danes -and not just one, but two!) I was trying to get up, and they were trying to “help”. Sometimes help can be overwhelming, if you know what I mean, thus defeating the purpose. Finally, i convinced them to leave and was able to pull myself up and hobble to the bed. Nothing was broken, thank goodness.

As if this wasn’t enough, I was mowing grass a couple of days ago -the same grass I’ve been mowing for 18 years without injury or falling-and stepped in an obscure hole, twisting that same ankle and injuring my arm. No one was in sight, except the neighbor kid who was playing in his front yard. I know what you’re thinking -the kid ran over to help, right? Wrong. He did watch as I finally struggled to my feet again, then he went back to playing.

From these experiences, I’ve learned two very important things. 1. middle-agers must not be level, or we wouldn’t fall so much, and 2. dogs are more useful than neighbor kids