Life Intervenes
So, I took a fall in early October 2025, a little over two months ago now. This was serious: I landed face first on asphalt pavement. To be precise, I fell on the right side of my face and body onto very a very hard and, pebble-studded, surface. Everything’s relative, and since I’m short (under 5’2”), I didn’t have far to fall. So, though not always an advantage, in this case my height may have been.
In the Moment
I present the experience here in short, bullet, staccato, points, because that’s how it felt in process. Memories compress yet diffuse, but I assume I stumbled over a parking lot divider, on my way into a grocery store, while focused on grabbing a cart. Then again, I may have stumbled over my own feet. I can be bit clumsy, and my balance has often been a challenge. And that has me wondering why standard design continues to emphasize and meet the needs of only the most able bodied. This despite data suggesting increasing numbers of us are aging and less agile.
Consequences of Not Paying Attention
Not to give myself too much of a break, I will admit I wasn’t paying enough attention to where I put my feet. As noted, the right side of my face took the brunt. Five Stitches. Cuts arcing around my right eye. I took photos and sent them to family and friends. Pretty grim, but not as bad as it appeared. I will not share those images here. Sunglasses broke and probably protected my eye. I had an appointment with my ophthalmologist about a month later. And he said the orbit around the eye is very robust and protective. Good to know. Jagged plastic edges did cut, as my brother pointed out viewing the photos I sent. My family can tend more toward analysis than comfort. I did have less severe bruising on hands and lower arms I put out to break my fall, as well as of both shins.
Kindness of Strangers
So, like Blanche DuBois in Tennessee Williams’ A Streetcar Named Desire, you could say I depended on the kindness of strangers. And they came through, were magnificent, remarkably helpful. Again, I’m fuzzy on details. Probably flooded with shock and adrenaline. Don’t recall being picked up. But I soon found myself in one of those motorized riding carts from the grocery store and then wheeled inside. Heavy dose of denial too: thought I could just get up and drive home. Reminded my brother of our mother, with the analytic framework. Fortunately, more reasonable heads prevailed. I was bleeding a lot; headwounds will do that. Somebody had already called 911. A nurse, finishing her shift at a nearby Urgent Care, put ice on my wound. And accurately predicted I’d have swelling and would need stitches. Someone handed me a bottle of water after it seemed I was not nauseous. That indicated I did not sustain a concussion. Turns out grocery stores tend to have appropriate supplies. So, if you have to do this, choose your location. After that, there was the ambulance ride to the Emergency Room. And then, though I was conscious, the chain of events stretched into a long blur. Scans—lucky no broken bones in hands and arms, no concussion, no head injury, no damage to eye or eye socket. Cosmetically, no broken nose or teeth lost.
A Little Help from a Friend? The Right Friend at the Right Time
From the ER, I called couple friends and had return calls from one. The second was to ask another for help, to retrieve my backpack and computer from my car. Didn’t want to just leave it, with all the writing I’d done earlier. Instead, she came to the ER and stayed with me. Gave me the gift of someone to talk to and not sink into solitary anxiety. And she offered the right perspective at the right time: she herself had had a more serious accident a few years back, falling on and breaking bones in her right hand and wrist. She’s made huge progress and is still doing physical therapy to get back to full functioning. So, she had a sense of and special insight into my less extreme existential challenges. When I yelped during the washing out of the wound with sterile water, the resident asked if I wanted her to step out. But she said we’re very old friends, with a long history together, and have been there for each other at many times and in multiple ways. I agreed. And she stayed. And her presence was reassuring. When they eventually let me out (5 or 6 hours later), she drove me to my car in the same parking lot and followed me partway to make sure I could drive home.
Lessons Learned?
Initially, this experience left me feeling very stupid. Why didn’t I pay more attention to where I put my feet? That has morphed into feeling very humbled and grateful. Waiting to be sent through the full body scan, I had a sense that a moment could change everything. And how would I handle and adapt if it had and did? And even though my injuries turned out not nearly as serious as they might have been, the incident shifted something within me. Call it perspective and a more nuanced sense of my own mortality. I tell folks I’m now more focused on accepting aging but not caving into it. I’m still working on finding my balance generally and with growing awareness and appreciation of my stage in life. A bit of a struggle given my mother’s denial and resistance of her own aging. Luckily I had already, for the past few years, been laying groundwork, doing a lot of physical movement—tai chi, barre ballet, chi gong, strength exercises—after years of living mostly in my head. And taking meds to strengthen my not quite osteoporotic bones. Not that I had an organized plan. I’ve just responded to an inner need and impulse to move, to be more present in and with my body. And perhaps my body knew, foresaw the coming need. My cell phone tells me my balance is chancy. But I already knew that. And I have been working on it.
No Such Thing as an Accident?
There’s the idea that there’s no such thing as an accident. Don’t mistake this for a “blame the victim” angle. Google AI suggests that most events, especially injuries or deaths, are not random, but are the result of a chain of causes, such as human choices, negligence, or systemic failures. While “accident” implies an unavoidable event, it can be argued the label is often used to deflect responsibility, while “unintentional injury” or “collision” are more accurate terms. This concept can apply in in several contexts, from legal and safety discussions to philosophy and psychology. Message: Pay more and better attention. I feel that amplified now.
Financial Costs
Always, with an any medical issues, there are worries about costs. How much? But those have turned out to be very limited, most covered by supplemental insurance with Medicare. For that, I am also extremely grateful. And again, I feel very lucky.
Identity—Who Am I Now?
Extreme events raise questions around identity. Some years back, an acquaintance told me about grieving a fellow worker at a rock-climbing venue who fell and died during an out-in-nature climb. This suggests another side to the physical abilities equation. Do the more physically adept tend to push the edges, because they underestimate relative risks? And can moments poised on the edge become instances of feeling most alive? So, how to find balance and not go too far?
Finding a Way Bac
In this context, I happened upon/was fortunate to watch the film An Accidental Life on the plane coming back from Circle Dance camp in New Hampshire in July from DC to New Orleans. That happened before my own incident and provided emotional grounding information I could soon use. This was a documentary one Quinn Brett, a woman mountain climber who fell from Yosemite’s El Capitan, which she had climbed many times before. After being airlifted by helicopter, she emerged paraplegic. For her, the event constituted even more existential transformation in her sense of self. The filmmaker’s approach was raw, unfiltered, at times even intrusive. And that highlighted her subject’s development in understanding and acceptance of herself as a lifelong very physical person, along with her times of moments struggle and despair. And I wondered how she’d manage to reinvent and reframe her life and herself after. Biggest questions: Could she walk again? Not, it turned out, in any regular way. She’d have to use a wheelchair. On her feet in a lab setting, she can’t feel her lower body and extremities. Another big question: could she have sex again? What kind of sensations was her body now capable of? She processed/acknowledged/admitted she may have been unfocused and tired before the fall that changed her life. I could resonate with that. She broke up with her then boyfriend soon after. And she acknowledged that was not caused but was already in process before. Her climber friends/community took a while to adjust, but in time found ways to include her, to the extent possible. She found another boyfriend online, and they worked out the sex part. Didn’t seem like a freak, just someone who could care and accommodate, recognize the person within. She even found a new career. The companion who’d been with her during her fall accompanied her to Washinton, DC for an interview with the National Park Service to help develop and design programs for differently abled park users. She, off course, has very applicable experience, both before and after. And, as far as I can see, so far her job still exists in the post-DOGE era.
Adjusting to New Realities
In the last scene, Brett’s whole large crew are naked, facing away from the camera and toward a lake. Makes sense: these are all, of course, very physically defined and identified people. And she, unclothed along with her peers, is piggyback on her boyfriend’s back. So, she has people who can literally be present and support her. That seems to me a good metaphor for how we adjust and find ways to make a different kind of sense when life confronts us with no option but to take it as it comes. So, if not better, life after will be different, and can bring opportunities for new though challenging learning.