Getting Old
Two years ago this week, I was walking down 13th Avenue on my way to work. It was a crisp, cold Sunday morning, and as I approached the 60th street intersection, I could see that all four corners were completely covered with a thin layer of ice.
What to do? I thought about taking a detour or even turning back, but they were waiting for me at the bank. I decided that if I walked carefully enough, I should be able to make it through.
After a few steps, I slipped on the ice and literally flew into the air (in borderline cartoonish fashion), landing hard on my back and the back of my head.
Did I call 911? (The memory is hazy.) Yes, I think I did. The next thing I knew, EMTs were crouching next to me, asking obvious questions, then delicately placing me on a stretcher. I was at Maimonedes hospital for the next twelve hours, blood filling the inside of my face, suffering from nausea and vertigo every time I tried to move my head.
That was two years ago. To quote Monty Python and the Holy Grail, I got better. But I still have the occasional wave of dizziness when I lie flat on a hard surface.
Last week--and I still don't know how--I tore tendons in my left foot (in two places). I'm in a soft cast and hobbling from place to place in a futile attempt to keep up with my normal schedule.
Winter used to be my favorite time of year. I used to love running around in the snow--like my son does. But now, I'm more like my 89 year old mother, who sees winter as a death trap.
I'm getting old. It's depressing.
What to do? I thought about taking a detour or even turning back, but they were waiting for me at the bank. I decided that if I walked carefully enough, I should be able to make it through.
After a few steps, I slipped on the ice and literally flew into the air (in borderline cartoonish fashion), landing hard on my back and the back of my head.
Did I call 911? (The memory is hazy.) Yes, I think I did. The next thing I knew, EMTs were crouching next to me, asking obvious questions, then delicately placing me on a stretcher. I was at Maimonedes hospital for the next twelve hours, blood filling the inside of my face, suffering from nausea and vertigo every time I tried to move my head.
That was two years ago. To quote Monty Python and the Holy Grail, I got better. But I still have the occasional wave of dizziness when I lie flat on a hard surface.
Last week--and I still don't know how--I tore tendons in my left foot (in two places). I'm in a soft cast and hobbling from place to place in a futile attempt to keep up with my normal schedule.
Winter used to be my favorite time of year. I used to love running around in the snow--like my son does. But now, I'm more like my 89 year old mother, who sees winter as a death trap.
I'm getting old. It's depressing.