Jack and Jill

I am at the age when doctors advise me to take Calcium for my bones. I up my yoghurt quota, eat a bit of goat cheese on my salad with broccoli and carry on. I figure it's mostly downhill from here, and the fewer pills I have to remember to take, the better. Never had a broken bone. Never smoked. Never drank. I live in a kind of foolish haze of optimism with regards to my health.

Still, I wonder if there is a kind of pre-senescence after menopause. Like puberty but the reverse. An awkwardness. As things begin to fall apart.

I had a fall on Friday evening, while I was out gathering flowers for Dawsonwood Cottage. It was one of a singularly tedious string of mishaps this week...the bruised finger caught in the door, the brush fire flash which trimmed my eyelashes, the ugly abrasion from my miscalculation of the distance between my body and the open refrigertor door.

So the fall. The steps down to the waterfront are supposed to provide a gentle descent, but I twisted my ankle on the last one and lost my balance. I flew sideways through the air. Heard a crack as the side of my face hit the trunk of an ancient birch and landed squarely in a patch of Tansy, with my head inches from the water. My legs flailed vainly in the air.

There was a moment of panic before I realized..."I'm okay." In that moment, there was a surge of doom and gloom, self-blame and more than a tinge of resentment at my undignified position in the Tansy. "My face will be permanently deformed." "I should have taken that calcium. I have a broken hip." "Are my teeth okay?" Then and only then. "Good grief, I'm perfectly okay."

"Why doesn't anybody hear my screaming?" And. "How long can I lie here upside down in the Tansy before Rob notices I'm not in the house?" More hollers. More screams. Dusk descending. No gallant rescue.

I hauled myself upright, not an easy task when one is head first down a 45 degree incline. I dusted myself off. I stepped gingerly back towards the house, gathering bits of bouquet which had been jettisoned in all directions.

Now this it is hard to believe. I should have had mild concussion at least. A few bruises. A black eye to boast about. A contusion on my face where I hit the tree. Nope. This is the sum total of my injuries: A tiny scrape on my ankle along with a nearly invisible bruise. A few Tansy scratches on one knee. A gentle soreness of muscles as if I had been weeding too long.

And a miracle. I went into that tumble with a major overbite, but I swear that as a result of my face hitting the side of the tree, my teeth form a better bite than they have been able to accomplish in the last thirty years! The whole thing was like a violent, unexpected chiropractic adjustment! And because of that miracle, I get no sympathy. Minimally, I should get commiseration for the post traumatic shock.

My brother claims the fall has healed me. He claims I won't need the scheduled gall bladder surgery next Thursday...the fall having corrected all that ails me. Am I to be denied even a get well balloon and a card?

Having no broken bones to show for my mishap, I am confirmed in my reluctance to take Calcium. Obviously, my bones are made of iron and my head is stainless steel.

Still it is a salutary event. I am in decline, beginning the relentless disintegration of later middle age. I need to watch where I am going.