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There is one problem with the title phrase – I cannot see out of the corner of my eye – either one!  Which leads me to tell you about the latest in the continuing saga of Paula the Klutz!  My brother Dick used to tell me that I was so uncoordinated I could (and frequently did) trip over a painted line on the sidewalk.  But that had nothing to do with whether I had any peripheral vision.  I used to, and I used to have very good hearing – so even if I didn’t see someone coming up on me, I could usually hear them.

Other than some minor weakness in my right leg, the only remaining vestige of the stroke I had some years ago is the loss of my peripheral vision.  Unfortunately my new contacts don’t fix that particular problem – but I m happy to report – TA DA!! – my contact lenses have behaved extremely well for the past 10 days or so!  They stay in, and don’t jump off my hand and disappear!  I tamed those beasties (knock wood )! Plus, my vision is greatly improved.  I can now read the pill bottle, instead of just guessing the content or dose

Anyway, because I can’t see “out of the corner of my eye,”  I frequently bump into things, run into doors that are 1/2 open, scrape my face when closing the car door, etc.  I simply cannot get accustomed to turning my head back and forth as I walk along, trying to avoid obstacles that might be in my way.  Not only would I feel rather silly, it would look even sillier to the casual observer.  To what can I liken such a spectacle?  I know! People would walk up to me,  and say “Exactly where is the tennis match you are watching?  And what’s the score?”

So here’s the thing:  On Friday, Hubs and I went together on a number of errands, starting with my physical therapy appointment, and then on from there.  A few hours later we returned home.  I have become accustomed to not using my crutches while in the house, so I usually keep my regular pair in the car, (I have a spare pair in the house to use if needed).  Therefore, when I got home, I left the crutches in the car, and toddled into the house “freestyle.” There are three steps up from the garage to the laundry/mud room, which is adjacent to the kitchen.  I got up the stairs just fine, as usual.  Once I got inside, however, I didn’t see the portable step-ladder on my left, next to the door to the kitchen. 

Picture this in slo-mo:  My left foot caught the ladder-leg, and I went flying!  I mean to tell you, it was like I was trying to take a belly flop into a swimming pool!  Both legs went out from under me, and I (God help me!) instinctively threw out my right arm to “catch myself” as I hit the floor. The slow motion film would also feature the slow-motion sound effect as I let fly with a peculiar groan/grunt:  “NOOO-OOWWWW -EEEEH-AAAAAH-RUMPFHHF-Whack!

Fortunately – or unfortunately – depending on which body part you are rooting for, my knees, first the left, and then the right, took the initial impact – SLAM! – followed directly by my right and then my left arm.  In case you have forgotten, it’s my LEFT knee that is giving me problems, and of course, my RIGHT hand/arm that is still recovering from its most recent surgery.

I stayed flat on my face for a few moments, trying to assess if there was any damage, other than to my dignity. I’m rather used to this, because I fall on a fairly regular basis, but generally in a comparatively “gentle” way, and usually have only a bruise or two (won’t tell you where), to show for it.  I knew immediately that the chances of getting away scot-free this time were slim to none.  I was pretty sure nothing was broken – at least bone-wise, but I did get up, with help, and take myself to our bedroom to lie down – getting my left knee and right arm elevated.  Within 5 minutes, rather massive bruises were building on both knees – larger on left than right, and my right pinkie finger had gone numb, and there was a rather disturbing motion in my right wrist, which leads me to believe that it is possible some of the fusion screws or plates have been loosened, somewhat, maybe.  I don’t know.

I laid low through the weekend, trying to tell myself that I really was OK, but after realizing that I wasn’t in shape to attend church services this morning, I admitted that I should have good old Dr. Cutting check out what I have perhaps done to myself.  So, this morning, after some already scheduled lab work, I shall be paying a visit to my orthopedic surgeon. I figure that by the time all this crap is over, there will be a gold plate attached to one of the chairs in the office waiting room, inscribed with my name and dedicated  to me.  By now, I’ve probably paid for his son’s college education (which begins this Fall), so I know he’ll be thrilled to see me so soon.  After all, he has a daughter approaching college age as well.

So, what to do?  I blog about my clumsiness, and pour it on, thick and high, hoping to elicit some empathetic pain.  Because, as we all know – “misery loves company.”  Thanks for indulging me – I’ll let you know how that works. . . 😀

Marcus Aurelius said:    “Reject your sense of injury and the injury itself disappears.”  Well, I have been trying all weekend to reject it.  So far, it hasn’t disappeared, but you just never know!  Maybe I’ll wait another day. . .

In the meantime, I offer you this video of “Elmo” falling down the stairs.  he is re-enacting one of my previous falls, I think.  But mine was funnier.

At this point, I have a choice:  Say it’s all too much, (which I can’t bring myself to complain enough to do), or affirm, as usual, Dear Gentle Readers, that it’s just enough. . .