I Wobble

So, y'all know that I've been locked into a fight till the death struggle with my bicycle. Which, incidentally is the cutest thing evar now that she has a basket and a bell. Cuteness aside, it never seems to fail that every time I get on the thing I come away with scrapes and bruises. 

But I'm not giving up. *strikes a confident pose with a wonder woman cape fluttering behind her in the breeze*

One of my recent tumbles off my buckin' bronco bike caused me to land squarely on my new knee joint. Was a real beaut. I was able to get up and walk around on the thing just fine and so was pretty confident that I had not injured the knee implant, but as the bruises developed and it started to swell, I wasn't so sure. So the next day I motored myself over to my doctor's office and presented myself. We had an interesting discussion that took off in a direction that I wasn't counting on. 

"Oh, my! So how did this happen?"

Dr. M is a very nice young woman who didn't know what she was in for when she accepted me into her internal medicine caseload a few years ago. 

I explained all; after which she gave my knee a very thorough examination. "I'm sure that you didn't damage your new joint at all," she said.

"I'm actually more concerned about WHY you fell." 

I fell because that's just how I roll, so to speak. 

She frowned. "So have you fallen when you were not on your bicycle?"

Of course. But I've always been fine afterwards. 

"Why do you think you have fallen when not on your bike?"

Let's see........once because I kind of missed one of the steps going from the house to the garage and planted myself face first on the concrete...."

She winced and held up a hand. "Hang on. You're falling at home? In an area that's very familiar to you?" I nodded. "How many times in the last year?"

I suppose about........three or so.

We went on to have a lengthy discussion about the zillion reasons that may be contributing to my inclination to topple over; during which I was mentally kicking myself for even allowing this particular medical can of worms to be opened. Because I knew what would inevitably follow. And it did:

"I would like you to have a further assessment of your fall risk."

(Hoo boy. Here we go, I thought.)

"I am scheduling you for a Preventing Falls class, and also for some one on one assessments by physical therapy looking at your gait and ambulation skills."

(I knew it. Drat. MORE appointments.) 

After another discussion about using hand rails, lighting up dark areas, wearing my glasses, being vigilant, blah blah blah blah blah......she finally said, "Show me your shoes."

I dutifully stuck one foot out. 

"Those knit fabric type sneakers don't provide any kind of stability for you at all. I want you to go through your shoes and either give away or toss those that don't fit exactly right, those that have high heels, any flip flops at all, and those that are flimsy and don't provide good support for your entire foot including your heels. So no slip-ons."

Curses. I saw the words INCREASED FALL RISK get typed onto my electronic medical record. 

I left grumpily, certain that she had just given me a sentence of life-wearing-awful-ugly-shoes. Like these:

However it didn't take me long to figure out that if I needed to toss a closet full of shoes, then it was only logical that a serious shoe shopping trip should follow. 

Which it did. And sorry John -- I've only just begun.....