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Nothing can be done once you begin to fall. You can try to catch yourself and stop the downward plunge, or if that fails you can try to brace yourself as best you can for the inevitable crash onto the pavement. But still, you are beginning to fall. Nothing can be done about that.

The shock, both physical and emotional, of finding yourself face down on the sidewalk scraped up, bloody, and hurting is intense. What just happened? you ask yourself. What should I do? Can I get up? Can I walk? Am I really hurt or did I just skin my knees?

My recent fall was so unexpected. Well, I imagine that most falls are unexpected. Not many people fall on purpose, after all.

The fall was unexpected, and two broken kneecaps was even more unexpected. And then some surprising complications of the fall that landed me in the ER for the second time – quite unexpected.

I didn’t really believe that this kind of thing would never happen to me. I’m a human being and not immune to accidents. A friend of mine once told me the percentage of women 65+ years old who fall, and although I can’t remember the number it seemed pretty high. Lots of my friends around my age have fallen in the last couple of years. Some have had minor injuries and some much more serious. I’m in my 70’s and have been lucky so far. That is until now.

I do think about what could have been done to prevent the fall. I could have, for example, been looking down at the sidewalk like I usually do when I’m out walking instead of gazing around at the houses and trees. If I’d just looked down, just for a moment, I might have seen that uneven part of the sidewalk. I might have been able to walk around it and then everything would be different now. I would be leading my regular life and not in this surreal reality where I now find myself. But I didn’t look down. That’s not what happened. I can’t take that moment back. Nothing can be done about that.

I also find myself wondering if, had I been younger, the injuries and complications might have been milder. Maybe I would have gotten away with some scrapes and bruises on my knees and face, and not much else. Or better yet, maybe I would have been able to catch myself before falling, right myself, and not fallen at all. This is merely conjecture though, something that’s impossible to know. I’m the age I am, nothing to be done about that.

So here I am, propped up on my bed with both legs in heavy braces and a walker at my bedside. Home health care workers come and go – a nurse, a physical therapist, an occupational therapist. My partner is attentive and loving, bringing me food and fresh water and keeping me company when he can, and a wonderful caregiver stays with me when he has to go into work. I am well taken care of and I am healing. I am acutely aware that things could have been a lot worse. I know how incredibly lucky I am to have good health care available to me and the ability to pay for the extra help I need, a position not everyone is fortunate enough to be in. I’m surrounded by love and care, and there’s nothing to be done about that other than to graciously and gratefully accept it.