Clumsy Notes


Clumsy Notes

My clumsiness used to be mildly amusing – mishaps met with inevitability rather than surprise. Naturally mine was the car drunk drivers demolished. Who else could give themselves a black eye opening a door, break their toe going to the bathroom in the middle of the night or fall in a hole while walking across a field? Rest assured – walking with me is safe, I’ll take misfortune on  the chin so you can breathe easy.

Good natured laughter came easy for a while. Comments like “you have to be more careful” or ” Geez” never offended – they were bang on, I would have laughed and shaken my head, every bit in disbelief if it were another clumsy sod instead of myself.  My list of injury,mishap, folly and circumstance stretch back so far they’ve become comedy sketches. Those who know me aren’t being unkind – I get it, I’m a klutz.

Years of “bouncing back” from injury have given way to the stark reality of middle age. Shaking it off with a chorus of “I’m a dumb-ass”, no longer a match for the reality of “I’m not as young as I used to be”.

A few days ago I was walking with my husband to the grocery store. One second we’re talking – the next I’m hard on the ground – no warning, no chance to anticipate or prepare. Long story short – I knew my arm wasn’t right and went to the emergency room today. Four hours later I walked out with this “half cast” on my arm and an appointment to see a bone specialist on Thursday.

Clumsiness isn’t funny anymore – I’m getting to old for this crap and really have to start being more careful.