I am very afraid of falling and hurting myself as a result of my limited vision. Every time I leave my house, it is a big concern for me. I have only fallen twice in the 12 years since waking up blind. Tempting fate much, Sister Rain?
Last week I found myself on a boat, in open waters, needing to use the head. (I’m so nautical.) Waiting for the watercraft to slow down, I assured my husband that I would he fine. I made my way carefully down the steep steps. He had given me directions for finding the restroom, and at the bottom of th stairs, I reached for the door handle to go inside. Mister Rain had warned me of the high threshold, I believe its purpose is to keep water out of the interior should there be such a cause. I am 5’ 2”, with short legs and no depth perception. I did, however, experience the perception of depth when I hit the ground.
As my foot caught the divider, I knew I was going down, much like the crew of the Titanic upon impact with the iceberg. There was a table right in front of me, a cowboy hat sat on its surface, its owner hatless somewhere on deck. I reached out for the table, trying to calculate in those nanoseconds the best approach for my own collision in order to do the least amount of harm. As I literally hit the deck, I immediately began to scale the booth seats and table as if they were nearby Mount Rainier, all the while preparing for the arrival of good Samaritans to see if I was alright. They did not appear. There was no one inside. What did come were the shakes and the welling of tears, before I could even begin to access the damage. I took two steps and got myself into the bathroom. It had been so close.
Trying to undo my layers with quaking hands, I sat (no energy for the hover in this moment). Instantly I recognized the ache in my left knee, the primary point of contact, my right knee was getting my attention too. My wrists hurt, no doubt from bracing myself first on the table, then the floor. As I put myself back together clothes-wise, the rest of me started to come undone, real tears and sobs threatening to outshine my throbbing knees. Stiffness already setting in, I made my way back to the top deck. As I got closer to the railing where my husband stood, he asked, “How’d you do?” This was what I had hoped to avoid, kindness from another person, the one thing we all know in these situations can crack us wide open. “I fell,” I replied quietly and he put his arm around me. I did cry a little then, but fought hard to keep it brief.
When the boat turned around to head back to land about 90 minutes later, I checked to see how all my parts felt. I was hurting but nothing serious had resulted from my tumble. That was a revelation to me. In my experience, things go downhill fast and before you know it, all the wheels have come off. I don’t usually remain unscathed. And yet here I was. Nothing broken. Nothing impaired. Could it be that a face plant doesn’t have to uproot your life, that all stumbles are not created equal?
I should be clear here. I’m not referring to the metaphorical challenges we overcome. I’m not talking about losing one’s sight and figuring out a way to live a good life with limited vision. This is about the physical act of falling because I struggle with this fear every day. It is easy to expect the worst when that is your frame of reference. Until, one day, the thing you are afraid of occurs . . . with the very best outcome. This recent incident is fresh, it will be for awhile. But the fear threshold, ironically, is a little lower now.
I fell.
It hurt.
The end.
#sisterrain #alittlesightalotofheart #legallyblindwriter #hittingthedeck
