Surviving Life as a Klutz

Surviving Life as a Klutz

While there are other definitions of “klutz” that are less flattering, I will confess to being essentially clumsy and go with that one.  I can and do trip over anything.

The most recent episode occurred this morning about 6:30. My dear spousal unit notified me the coffee was ready. I donned my cheetah print robe and cozy shearling slippers and scampered down the stairs, only to trip over the duffle bag my darling had left at the foot of the steps. My foot caught and I went flying. But, there was no lift and I landed with a thud prone, with my right knee taking the brunt of the impact. It was ugly. Complete with dizziness, nausea, and moments of blackout.  Damn – I did not have time for this. My knee swelled immediately right around my patella.  The first strategy – elevate and use ice.  The only readily available soft frozen item – a bag of walnuts. That wasn’t too satisfying. We did locate a bag of ice in the garage and cobbled together an ice pack with a freezer bag and the belt to my down vest. Fortunately, there was no fracture.

I am convinced that my tendency to exercise and keep relatively fit has saved me from more serious injury. Over the years I’ve sprained and re-sprained my right ankle so many times that I’ve a permanent bone bruise on the lateral portion. I can’t it cross-legged or flex my ankle in some directions. But, I’ve avoided fractures thus far.

That is amazing considering I fell out a window in an English manor house in 1979 trying to retrieve a bottle of wine that had been chilling on the balcony only to seriously sprain my ankle so severely it never healed. It was later exacerbated by unfortunate incidents with platform sandals; falling off ladders at least three times,  flying down the stairs while multi-tasking with a vacuum cleaner, cell phone and laundry, skiing down the driveway on my backside on the ice, stepping in a series of holes,  falling over my own handbag in my office, tripping over shoes I left on the bathroom floor, and walking into at least 2 door jams in the middle of the night. Just taking the trash dumpster down to the road can present a hazard. And ladders – now verboten.  There is a good reason that “grace” is not my middle name.

At this point in my life I’ve learned to eschew high heels and elevated clogs – much as I love them.  I lust for gorgeous footwear and have always loved heels. But I can’t avoid walking. My evil husband makes jokes about my premature qualification for a hover-round and lack of coordination.  But I keep on keeping on.

No fracture today. I have to RICE for the next few days. (Rest / Ice/Compression/Elevation). Well, I can do the elevation.  Trying to exploit my spousal unit’s modicum of guilt for leaving his bag in my path; however, ultimately, it was me. I should have seen it and walked around it, but I didn’t. My bull in the china shop approach to living is my worst enemy at times. But, it just goes to show that eating right; keeping fit,  & building strong bones and muscles protects and defends our physical selves in times of trauma. So, rest for the weekend and back to yoga and my mini trampoline by Monday!