Fear Of Falling
We're all scared of something, actually, lots of things. But a new amputee is most scared of falling. I thought after 4+ years, I was past that fear. In that time, I've learned how to push a weighted sled, wear mini-high heels, and dance with a cocktail-filled disco ball in my hand. Why am I just now experiencing the bad kind of heart flutters while walking on an uneven path?
Two weeks ago, during a typical sideways rain Florida afternoon shower, I was getting out of my car after parking outside the sauna studio when I slipped on a painted parking marker. I was on the phone with my Mom and had a bag in the other hand. I went down HARD. I wasn't thinking that I should be more careful since the ground was wet and I only have one real leg. I was multitasking. Something that, as a woman, I'm generally good at. I was thriving in my newly gained independence by driving with my left foot so I could run errands around town all by myself and feel like myself again. But I got a rude awakening when my only remaining knee landed and scraped the asphalt. Then, I realized I landed in the only open parking space next to mine, and it was raining hard enough to blur my vision, so what if a driver trying to park there didn't see me on the ground? When I finally got back on my feet, I went down again, and this time, my fake leg slipped right off, leaving me splattered on the ground like Mr. Potatohead.
Eventually, I put myself back together and limped into the sauna waiting area, drenched head to toe, handbag heavy from the weight of all the rain it soaked up, and forced myself to still do my sauna session, mainly to take lots of deep breaths in a room by myself.
Thankfully, I emerged relatively unscathed. At least physically. Only A scrape on my knee and an achy shoulder that lasted a couple of days. But it shook me up. I've done such a good job at recovering from stumbles and breaking my falls over the last several years; I didn't think I could still go down that hard.
It might seem silly but that fall kind of stuck with me. It made me afraid of uneven paths and rain. Which means I was nervous to leave the house because Florida is basically a rainy, uneven path. And then, two nights ago, while on crutches at home, I let my dog into the backyard as I do every day and slipped on the wet pool deck while trying to step back inside. This time, I didn't have my prosthesis on to protect my residual limb, and somehow, after more than four years without the lower half of my right leg, I still instinctually stuck out what remains of it to catch my fall. I landed on the bony side of my very vulnerable baby leg, and even though it hurt like hell, the tears I cried came more from frustration than from pain. Why am I back at a place I thought I left behind? A place of fragility and fear. I guess what they say about healing is true - It's not linear - It's more like a zig-zag, a wavy line that looks like a toddler got ahold of the markers on your freshly painted walls. So I'll have to climb my way back out of this place like I did once before. Good thing I already have a map and a limbitless flashlight.
