Re: Back at last

May 27, 2009

,

I'm glad to hear that you weren't seriously hurt in that fall. Failling is one

of my biggest fears! Isn't it strange how everything goes all slow-motion

during a traumatic event? I am happy to see that you're back and that your

computer issues are fixed!

>

> Dear Friends,

>

> Please forgive my recent absence from the group. I had connection problems,

was offline for several weeks, have now switched ISPs and am hoping to catch up

with everyone little by little. I also have had some non-major but slightly

upsetting medical problems, including falling on my face in a pothole. The fun

of this type of accident -- as so many of you know all too well, I fear -- is

that when you have gone totally bionic (i.e., gotten yourself fused down to

S-1), you can not really break your fall in any effective way. For me the

experience is of watching the whole thing happen to me in a kind of slow-motion,

semi-surreal way -- like, " Yup, here comes the pavement, let's hope it will not

be too bad this time. " And thankfully it was not quite as bad as the spill I

took a couple winters ago, when I gave myself a black eye hitting the ground.

(This time I came away with a black and blue chin and some cuts on various

elbows and knees, plus the usual dose of wounded dignity.)And mercifully no

hardware seems to have been dislodged, although I was kind of shook up and

everything hurt for a while afterwards.

>

> Deepest thanks as always to my erstwhile comoderators for holding the fort

while I was away.

>

> Best,

>

May 28, 2009

Thank you so much, . I appreciate the empathy and the welcome-back.

This fall affected me more than my previous ones. I don't know why. I was pretty

depressed for some time. I'm getting back to normal. For me the slow-mo effect

is exacerbated (I think) by my complete spinal rigidity, i.e., the fusion from

T2 to S1. A fall would go faster (and would be totally minor) when I was younger

and less fused and instrumented and was scrambling to " break " the the fall so as

to land in the least injurious position. Nowadays there is no way to do that, so

I am sort of watching myself fall in an almost out-of-body way, wondering where

I will hit and how bad it might be and probably getting a little prayer of some

kind in on the way down!

I probably sound like a big baby, and again, I don't know why exactly this

particular spill hit me so hard. I remembered much later that I have

osteoporosis and thus an even bigger reason to be grateful that I had no

permanent or serious damage. But I felt old, old, old. (Don't worry, I refuse to

wallow in this kind of self-pity more than, say, once a week. One thing that

helps me lately: I have gotten on the bandwagon at last and am now keeping one

of those Gratitude Journals advised by everyone from Oprah to Dr. Amen, that

charming keep-your-brain-young man who is always popping up on PBS.)

Of course you are much younger than I am, but for you I imagine there are

confounding factors, given your MS. It is certainly an unsettling thing to

experience for any post-revision flatbacker.I personally could not help feeling

stupid and klutzy, although I really don't think it was my fault. I had gone to

the ton library to get in a tiny bit of computer time which turned out to

be much less than the one-hour allotment since the servers for my browser and

email were down for at least the first 20 minutes. I ended up feeling

exasperated and frustrated to have gotten almost nothing done after all. I got

on the CTA bus that gets me home most directly from ton and started to take

notes on some of my interesting fellow passengers -- I am always taking notes

for potential short stories

The bus arrived at my stop, and but I must have still had my mind on the people

I had been writing about. I did not notice that the driver had pulled in nowhere

near the sidewalk. I trundled my little cart down the steps as usual -- it was

after sunset by now, and I did not get a good look below me -- and oops, there

was the giant pothole which instantly became my downfall. Four concerned old

gents surrounded me immediately, one of them kindly informing me of the pothole

and pointing it out behind me so that I would feel a little less dumb. But that

was after I finally managed to get up. At first I just lay there in shock,

sprawled across the asphalt.(Why does this cheapskate city refuse to go with

concrete and rarely even repair the asphalt?!) These very lovely old guys were

saying, " Are you all right? Are you all right, ma'am? " and I knew I was supposed

to be saying, " Yes, thank you, " while brushing myself off -- but I just lay

there in pain, wondering if I would ever be able to get up. Finally I summoned

the nerve to try moving myself a little, and I slowly, eventually, made it to my

knees and then my feet, and was able to reassure everyone that I would be o.k.

(though I was not at all sure I would be). The funny thing is that I landed in a

position I literally can not get myself into at all since being revised -- lying

on my stomach on the ground, when I can not even lie on my stomach in my bed!

I began slowly walking the three or four blocks to my place, which I share with

my son Matt. But I realized immediately that I was feeling very peculiar and was

sort of shaking from head to foot. Thank heavens for cell phones; I called home

and asked Matt to come out on foot and meet me, and he came right away and gave

me an arm and said sympathetic and comforting things.

I don't think I was quite myself for some days afterwards. I didn't try the

library trip again and in fact did not go out much at all for a while, given my

rather scary appearance -- my chin was a real sight.

Well, I didn't mean to go on like this, but your kind post gave me an opening. I

guess I needed to relate the story one more time. Thanks again, , for

listening and for caring.

> >

> > Dear Friends,

> >

> > Please forgive my recent absence from the group. I had connection problems,