Remember the Fallen

Although they may seem innocent enough, slip and fall incidents can actually cause devastating injuries to those people unfortunate enough to experience them. Although the vast majority of slip and fall injuries are no more than cuts and bruises, some incidents result in broken bones, concussions, back injuries and even permanent brain injuries.

So notes an article appearing, appropriately enough, on LawyersandSettlements.com. Pratfalls, the perennial stock-in-trade of comedy, has a serious side. When characters tumble and crash in movies, they always manage to pop back up like a jack-in-the-box. When people trip, slip, or flip in real life, they're more likely to garner an ambulance ride than a round of guffaws.

Some facts:

• We hold tight to a false sense of security. Foolishly believing that, not only are we invulnerable, but that our homes are a bastion of safety. Home, in truth, is where the accident is. According to experts, most slip and fall accidents occur close to home or at home. (Both times I fell and broke a bone, it was within blocks of my house.)

• In a presentation given by Howard Harris, MD, at the National Floor Safety Institute Symposium, we learn that fall-related injuries are the most common cause of nonfatal injuries (and the most common cause of hospital admissions for trauma), result in 8 million ER visits (and 425,000 hospital admissions) annually, and add up to $19 billion a year in direct medical costs. Falls are especially lethal for people over 65 -- every year, this group suffers a shocking 13,000 fatalities due to fall-related injuries.

As I learned, a simple slip can put you out of commission for months. It isn't just the injury -- the cumbersome cast, unwieldy crutches, monotonous PT exercises. It's the collateral damage -- muscle loss from lack of use, nerve damage from surgery. Not to mention the psychological toll: being housebound to the point where your bed is a raft, adrift in an endless, inhospitable ocean.

Where crossing a room leaves you sweating and winded, like you've run a marathon. Where every stairway is an intimidating Everest. Where you have to ask people to bring you... everything. More than feeling debilitated. Feeling powerless, stranded, a burden. Exhausted. Despondent. Wearily eying the arduous process of getting back on your feet. Overcoming the funk.

And realizing, "My schools, my parents, my coaches taught me a lot of things. But they never taught me how to fall." You'd think this would be a basic life skill. But now you make it one. Prime Objective: prevent a future fall (and the resultant massive hassle). For those who are interested, the National Ag Safety Database offers this advice on learning how to fall:

• Tuck your chin in, turn your head, and throw an arm up. It is better to land on your arm than on your head.
• While falling, twist or roll your body to the side. It is better to land on your buttocks and side than on your back.
• Keep your wrists, elbows and knees bent. Do not try to break the fall with your hands or elbows. When falling, the objective is to have as many square inches of your body contact the surface as possible, thus spreading out the impact of the fall.

We take so much for granted. This past summer, with my ankle on the mend, I'd look at other people's ankles. Carefree, striding pedestrians with their healthy, sturdy, unmarred ankles. And I'd envy them. Yes, "ankle envy." The season of sun, shorts, and sandals. And I'd be fuming.

It wasn't pretty, but it passed. (Actually, it morphed into an appreciation -- I'm awed that ankles can withstand the constant pounding. Supporting hundreds of pounds. Taking thousands of steps. Every single day.) As I recovered, I was thankful to have my legs back. Happy to be able to walk. Delighted to be able to drive. Viewing all those on crutches, all those with casts with a newfound sensitivity, a heartfelt respect.

I say hats (and casts) off to all those who have fallen. You're a living testament to the body's ability to heal and regenerate. The spirit's ability to adapt and endure. Like the mythical salamander surviving the flames, you've come through. Intact and unbroken.