I fell over a couple of Fridays ago.
“So what?” I hear you say.
Let me tell you. As they used to say on the BBC children’s radio programme Listen with Mother back in the 1960s, “Are you sitting comfortably? Then I’ll begin.”
When I take in lodgers, I always tell them that I have two rules: they have to put things back where they belong, especially in the kitchen, and I ask them not to leave things on the floor where I might fall over them.
It’s a shame I don’t always follow my own rules.
Braille books and documents are sent through the post in large hard plastic boxes secured with webbing. When the postman delivers boxes of braille books for me to proofread, I often ask him to leave them in the hall so that I can put them away in the office later.
(I expect you can see where I’m going with this.)
My good friend and personal assistant Mary and I were washing up after lunch one Friday when the doorbell rang. I surmised that it was the grocery delivery from Tesco that I was expecting and started for the door. My knee had been painful for a while and I was walking especially slowly. There was no need for me to hurry as Tesco weren’t going anywhere else with my order but, nevertheless, I felt I should speed up. So I did.
Next thing I know I am hurtling over the boxes in the hall.
I landed wedged in behind the front door. The Tesco lady was very concerned. She called through the door that she could ring for an ambulance or carry me upstairs. Then she heard Mary’s voice and was concerned to know who was with me. Perhaps she thought I was being attacked.
I assured her that all was well and Mary took the Tesco bags in through a crack in the door. She couldn’t open it any wider because I was in the way.
I thought I had pulled a muscle and optimistically said that I would be all right in a little while. Mary put cushions under my head and laid a blanket over me and even got me some ice packs to slap on my leg. Remembering how much work there was to be done in the office, I suggested we made a start and lay on the floor calling out which files needed to be printed off and where to find them.
After a while I realized that I wasn’t getting noticeably better and wasn’t going to be able to stand up without help. I asked for the phone and dialled the emergency services on 999. I told them I didn’t need an ambulance, just a paramedic to get me on my feet and then I would be fine.
They sent an ambulance anyway and, you’ve guessed it, I still couldn’t get on my feet.
The paramedics whisked me off to our local hospital and I was duly X-rayed. This in itself was a challenge. I really couldn’t move my leg at all so the radiographer had to take what she called “an unorthodox approach” to get the picture she wanted.
Looking at the X-ray results, the doctor said I had well and truly fractured my femur (thigh bone). He was also concerned that I might have damaged my hip replacement and sent me back for another X-ray. I did remonstrate a little.
“I can’t have fractured it. That’s ridiculous. I only fell over a box!”
Sadly my denials didn’t alter the reality of the situation. I needed an operation and the doctor said they wouldn’t know for sure whether my hip was damaged until they had got me in surgery. I would need a specialist hip surgeon and so would have to wait until Monday before the operation could go ahead.
To be continued…