SO MANY SONGS HAVE BEEN running through my head. “Jump In;” “I Get Knocked Down;” “Free Fall;” “Sky Fall;” “Fall On Me;” “Catch Me I’m Falling;” “Please Help Me I’m Falling.” Probably the most appropriate title, given what happened, is “Jump Then Fall.” Oh, what the hell. After sleeping well despite the aches, pains, and bruises, I decided to go in a different direction. But, first the story, which falls under the category: “What the hell was I thinking?!?”
I got myself out of the house yesterday afternoon in the heat. I was determined to go for a long sweaty walk to a part of town I’ve never visited. I was having a great time taking in the sights, people-watching, and just enjoying the sunshine (under my mask, cap, and sunglasses). The most direct route was straight up the length of the fairgrounds parking lot with the backs of the casetas (click here) to my left. I would then walk a pedestrian way under the highway. But near the end I noticed a mural on the back of one of the casetas and I decided I needed to get closer for a photo. There were stairs another few minutes away that would take me from the parking lot to the fairgrounds. But I could simply go over the low wall that separated us and save myself some time.
I thought, “Oh, I should probably sit on the wall and carefully lower myself down.” But I thought, “Oh, you’ve jumped down from that wall before. No problem.” And then I thought, “Yeah, but, the hip.” “Nah! It’s not that high. That’s nothing for you.” This debate went on for about a minute, which is a very long time to debate something in your own head.
I stepped onto the wall and jumped. “Oh shit! What was I thinking? I can’t put that pressure on my hip.” I pulled back a bit mid-air. As I landed my left leg screamed, “You asshole!” and refused to cooperate.
I fell. I rolled. I had put my hands out, which meant the camera I had been holding in my right went flying through the air and hit the ground ahead of me. My hands slammed the pavement and I began a roll to my left. My entire left side slammed hard before I rolled to my stomach. There was no one in sight. There I was on the ground, thinking I might not get up. I got on all fours, then pushed back onto my knees. I breathed deeply. I swore. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” I said aloud.
I retrieved my camera and tested the power button. The camera at least turned on as usual. I then pushed myself up off my knees and stood. I walked over to the wall and took a picture of the [fucking] mural. I called myself every name my father used to call me. And then some. I walked toward the highway underpass and realized my whole body hurt. It would only get worse I knew. So, I cut through the residential neighborhood to the east of the fairgrounds and I headed home. I inspected myself as I walked. The back of my left hand was bleeding but, other than that, I had just a few tiny nicks on my knees and dusty scuffs all along my right side. I cleaned up with the antiseptic gel in my bag.
I got home and told San Geraldo what I did. I said the wall wasn’t even that high. (The wall was high. I’m an idiot.) I took a shower. I took Paracetamol. I went to bed. Today I’m sore. I have a stiff neck. My left hand is bruised and swollen and beginning to change color. But nothing feels as bad as I expected. At least the bump above me eye from earlier in the week when I walked full speed into the glass living room door (again) is almost gone. But I didn’t feel quite so stupid about that when Dudo did the exact same thing a few minutes later.
TANTAS CANCIONES HAN ESTADO CORRIENDO por mi cabeza. “I Get Knocked Down;” “Free Fall;” “Sky Fall;” “Fall On Me;” “Catch Me I’m Falling;” “Please Help Me I’m Falling.” Probablemente el título más apropiado, dado lo que sucedió, es “Jump Then Fall” (Salta Luego Cae). Oh que demonios. Después de dormir bien a pesar de los dolores, dolores y contusiones, decidí ir en una dirección diferente. Pero, primero, la historia, que cae dentro de la categoría: “¡¿Qué demonios estaba pensando ?!”
Salí de casa ayer por la tarde en medio del calor. Estaba decidido a dar un largo paseo sudoroso a una parte de la ciudad que nunca había visitado. Me lo estaba pasando genial disfrutando de las vistas, observando a la gente y simplemente disfrutando del sol (debajo de la mascarilla, gorra, y gafas de sol). La ruta más directa fue recta a lo largo del estacionamiento del recinto ferial con la parte posterior de las casetas (has clic aquí) a mi izquierda. Luego caminaría por un camino peatonal debajo de la carretera. Pero cerca del final noté un mural en la parte posterior de una de las casetas y decidí que necesitaba acercarme para una foto. Había unas escaleras a unos pocos minutos que me llevarían desde el estacionamiento al recinto ferial. Pero podría simplemente pasar por encima del muro bajo que nos separaba y ahorrarme algo de tiempo.
Pensé: “Oh, probablemente debería sentarme en la pared y cuidadosamente bajarme”. Pero pensé: “Oh, ya saltaste de esa pared antes. No hay problema.” Y luego pensé: “Sí, pero la cadera”. “Nah! No es tan alto. Eso no es nada para ti”. Este debate se prolongó durante aproximadamente un minuto, que es mucho tiempo para debatir algo en su propia cabeza.
Me subí a la pared y salté. “¡Oh, mierda! ¿Qué estaba pensando? No puedo presionar mi cadera”. Me alejé un poco en el aire. Cuando aterricé, mi pierna izquierda gritó: “¡Gilipollas!” y se negó a cooperar. Me caí. Yo rodé. Extendí mis manos, lo que significaba que la cámara que había estado sosteniendo a mi derecha salió volando por el aire y cayó al suelo delante de mí. Mis manos golpearon el pavimento y comencé a rodar a mi izquierda. Todo mi lado izquierdo se estrelló con fuerza antes de rodar sobre mi estómago. No había nadie a la vista. Allí estaba en el suelo, pensando que no podría levantarme. Me puse a cuatro patas y luego me puse de rodillas. Respiré profundamente Lo juré. “¡Joder. Joder. Joder!” dije en voz alta.
Recuperé mi cámara y probé el botón de encendido. La cámara al menos se encendió como de costumbre. Luego me levanté de rodillas y me puse de pie. Me acerqué a la pared y tomé una foto del [maldito] mural. Me llamé cada nombre que mi padre solía llamarme. Y algo más. Caminé hacia el paso subterráneo de la autopista y me di cuenta de que me dolía todo el cuerpo. Solo empeoraría, lo sabía. Entonces, atravesé el vecindario residencial al este del recinto ferial y me dirigí a casa. Me inspeccioné mientras caminaba. El dorso de mi mano izquierda estaba sangrando pero, aparte de eso, solo tenía algunas pequeñas muescas en mis rodillas y rasguños polvorientos a lo largo de mi lado derecho. Limpié con el gel antiséptico en mi bolso.
Llegué a casa y le dije a San Geraldo lo que hice. Dije que el muro ni siquiera era tan alto. (El muro era alto. Soy un idiota). Tome una ducha. Tomé paracetamol y me fui a la cama. Hoy estoy dolorido. Tengo el cuello rígido. Mi mano izquierda está magullada e hinchada, y comienza a cambiar de color. Pero nada se siente tan mal como esperaba. Al menos la protuberancia sobre mi ojo de principios de semana cuando entré a toda velocidad por la puerta de cristal de la sala de estar (de nuevo) casi ha desaparecido.
Pero no me sentí tan estúpido al respecto cuando Dudo hizo exactamente lo mismo unos minutos después.
41 thoughts on “Falling up? / ¿Cayendo arriba?”
Well -bleep- that could have been much worse. You are out moving, doing good things for yourself, poo happens. Dust yourself off, pick yourself up, and keep exploring.
I gave up on bleeping myself this time. I don’t know why I keep it clean sometimes and not others. I’ll be out moving again this afternoon. I’m thinking of bungee jumping. If something goes wrong with that, at least I won’t land on my feet.
da fuq? you trying to kill yourself? where’s jiminy cricket when you need him? men!
Jiminy Cricket is my conscience. He does a good job. I need someone on my shoulder screaming, “Stop and think, you shmuck!”
Scoot. *Sigh*. You walk into doors. You fall down stairs. You’re persistently bruised. Why on God’s green earth would you even consider jumping a wall?! We natural klutzes should have agile minds. It’s the only thing that keeps us safe. Don’t listen to yours, though. It has a tendency to get a little macho 🙂 I’m glad you’re not hurt too badly.
Balder Half fell off a curb last week after dropping the dogs off at the groomers. Landed right on his bad left shoulder. A non-Karen white lady tried to help him up instead of calling the cops about the Black guy loitering in front of Petsmart. That was nice. He’s still stiff and sore. You old guys need to be careful!
I really do need to tell myself to shut up whenever I get one of these ideas. Currently, I can’t even jump off a CURB without pain to my hip. I must have left my brain at home. Glad Balder Half is OK, and that someone was nice. I had a friend in San Diego who tripped on a curb outside the Hillcrest Post Office. He landed in a puddle and lay there writhing in pain with a badly broken ankle. Not one person stopped for him. It took him more than a year to recover from the broken ankle. I don’t think he ever recovered from being avoided. One man actually stepped OVER him to get to the Post Office. And yeah, although I don’t like to think of myself as an “old guy,” I’m clearly no spring chicken.
Personally, Scoot, I like to think of you as well seasoned. I usually do, but that was an old guy stunt sweetie 🙂
That was an idiot stunt!
Oh how some of us think we can do things now as if we were 30! been there.
Now take care, mend and get back out again.
I’ll have you know I jumped down from that particular wall when I was 60. But I guess I’m not 60 anymore!
And let us not forget that immortal tune by the renown Chumbawumba: “Tubthumping” (“I get knocked down, but I get up again.”) https://youtu.be/2H5uWRjFsGc. You appear to have gotten off lucky on that one, but surely it is a worrisome sign when one congratulates oneself on having the intelligence of a cat… 😘
That was going to be my theme for today’s blog!
Hasn’t anyone ever told you to “act your age”?
As a matter of fact, yes. But he didn’t live to repeat it. Actually Jerry’s wonderful but stodgy grandfather once told Jerry’s wonderful and feisty grandmother to act her age. She was 77 at the time and had been horsing around with her grandchildren on a lake in a large inner tube. She stormed off after telling him she didn’t plan to act her age until she was 92… and then she was going to think a good like time about it! She’s my idol.
Shit, Mitchell! You need a long soak in a hot tub after that fall. You are obviously keeping your glass doors too clean if you and Dudo both walk into them.
I’m not a tub fan… unless it’s a jacuzzi type. But, I should also admit I walked into the shower doors when i took that shower. And they have big white stripes. There’s no hope.
Ei. Yi. Yi. Please try to be a tad more careful. We’d like to continue hearing from you…just not from the hospital.
Just a thought – To avoid walking through the glass…you might try adding a small decal (even one just slightly opaque) at just below eye level on the glass door–and maybe add another one at Dudo’s level while you’re at it.
Hope the healing continues to go well.
I’m not a fan of those decals on glass (aesthetics). I’d rather come close to knocking myself out. Anyway, sticker or no, I still walk into glass doors. Dudo was actually leaning against the glass before he tried to walk through it. That’s my boy! Healing is great. Better than expected.
Oh dear!!!! I’m glad it wasn’t worse than it was. You’ll never look at that mural or your photo of it the same way again.
And it wasn’t even a very good photo!
Dudo walked into the glass door, too!?
Oh, Mitchell, I’m so sorry to hear about this incident with you and the wall!
No worries. It gave me something to write about.
Oh no! There’s nothing worse than doing something and then realizing in mid-air that it was the wrong thing to do. (I’ve been there.) Sounds like you were fortunate overall, but sorry you’re having to go through this pain.
I’m recovering surprisingly quickly. I’d like to say I’ll never do something stupid like that again… but I’ll probably do worse.
Well, I can say that I love after you’ve fallen that you still took the photo.
I would have fuckfuckfucked myself all the way home.
I actually thought to myself, “Well I’m fucking here. Don’t want to have nearly killed myself for nothing.”
Dear, we thank you for getting a snap of the indeed, beautiful wall mural. It’s stunning. But with your history of two left feet and throwing yourself down stairs, what on Earth possessed you to jump a wall?????? You certainly like tempting with the Fates don’t you?
I look at the picture of that wall and have no idea what I was thinking. Obviously not much!
I am glad that you didn’t hurt yourself worse than you did. I am very similar to you in that I’ll do things and then once they are done I’ll realize, “That was stupid”. I went running last week despite the fact that my foot was really hurting. I have been limping all week and I have diagnosed myself with plantar fasciitis. Getting old is not for the faint of heart! You are a great writer by the way. I enjoy every post!
Ow, plantar fasciitis. I had that before we moved to Spain. Bought one of those sleep boots. Wore it for 9 months (really, 9 months). No problems now. I hope you can get that resolved. And thanks for the generous words about my writing. I enjoy myself.
I have bought some socks and a pad to put around my arch. Hopefully they will help. I love to walk/run and this is not a good thing for me right now!!! And the pain in the morning is not good!
I hope the socks and pad help. That pain can be awful… especially when you first get out of bed. But, at its worst, walking is not easy.
Oh, Mitchell! I’m so sorry that happened to you. Do you read Mary Moon’s blog? (If you don’t you DEFINITELY should, there’s a link on my sidebar). She fell the other day and broke four ribs!! I thought of that immediately when I read this. Please be careful! I can’t stand all my favorite bloggers getting hurt!!!!
(And quit calling yourself bad names!)
Also, Mary’s blog is called Bless Our Hearts. 🙂
I’m fine. Actually recovering more quickly than I expected. Thanks for the link to Mary Moon … and her four ribs. Poor thing. I should count my blessings.
save these shenanigans for Dudo next time.
At least Dudo could jump off the wall… successfully.
Yikes! Glad you’re (relatively) ok. When I go to the Saturday market, I often park down by the river then climb some stairs up to the château and around it. At the top of the main stairs up the hill, there’s a “shortcut” stair of about five steps. They’re steep and seriously worn, so very uneven. I fell down them once years ago when they were wet. When I see them I always have the same debate in my head. Should I try? It’s not raining! They’re not THAT steep! I’m not THAT old! Um, yes they are and yes I am. So now I walk the long way around.
Walt the Fourth:
Yeah, “yes they are and yes I am.” My new mantra.
Poor you. But you have to remember that your body is not 20 years anymore. Even if your mind think that you’re still a young man 🤪🤪🥰🥰
I’m not even 60 anymore. But my brain still functions like that of a 12-year-old!