I fell again today. It was so embarrassing. I was walking back into my class tonight, holding my bag, phone, and chai latte, and I wiped out. I landed on my left knee, did a total roll over on my left side, let out a giant fart, and got up to my knees when a nice guy in scrubs had managed to save my over-priced chai, which was the first thing I asked about. “Did I lose my chai? I’m okay, but did I lose my drink?”
My knee is messed up and my back is none too happy, but my pride was severely wounded. But then I remembered a few things that got me through it. Here’s an example:
July 16, 2008 – I crawled to my phone to call 911 because I could barely move and was in the most pain of my life. My PJs had managed to make their way clear down my butt and I was in too much pain to pull them up. I mean it was impossible. I tried valiantly. As paramedics, firemen, police officers, you name it came into the house, they were all exposed to my bare ass.
This isn’t the first time I’ve fallen. It’s actually like the third or fourth time recently. It bothers me beyond the whole pain factor. I don’t like to think about what’s causing it and when t could happen again. I also don’t like thinking that I’m doomed to wear flats and trainers indefinitely.
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