There’s nothing quite like rolling around in pain on the sidewalk to impart a healthy dose of humility and perspective.
That’s a lesson I learned rather abruptly and unexpectedly this past week.
To give the short version of this story, I was on my way home from work here at the office one evening last week and I stopped by a well-known national chain store (which I will leave unnamed) to grab a couple of things I needed at the homestead.
I was just gonna run in real quick (maybe too quick), but I didn’t even make it to the front door.
As I leapt up on the sidewalk, my right foot hooked on the edge, and I did a face plant right there in front of the store.
One second I was going in to do a little shopping, and the next I was kissing concrete.
After rolling around for a few minutes and leaving a little blood there on the sidewalk, I managed to crawl over to my car, where I sat and licked my wounds for a bit.
I’m not sure if anyone saw me take that fall. There were just a couple of other cars in the parking lot, and I didn’t see anyone. But I wouldn’t be surprised if the whole sorry escapade got caught on the store’s surveillance system, and, who knows, maybe a video titled “Big Man Takes a Dive” (or something along those lines) is being circulated on the internet as I write this.
But anyway, I didn’t hurt myself too awful bad, mostly just scrapes, bruises, messed up eyeglasses, and some seriously injured pride. It did worry me some when my left hand wasn’t working properly, but, after some x-rays, a doctor advised me that my wrist was sprained but not broken. I’m just supposed to keep it in a brace for a couple of weeks.
So is there a moral to this story?
I don’t know. Maybe it’s that this contraption of meat, blood, and bone I call my body is very breakable – and I should keep that in mind and pay more attention to what I’m doing and where I’m going.
And given how sore and stiff I’m still feeling several days later, I would be wise to remember that I don’t bounce back from stuff quite like I did 30 years ago.
