Fall down seven…get up eight

Have you ever done something so stupid that you cannot figure out the how that led to the why and the why that led to the what? This happened to me twice this week. I write to you this fine evening hopped up on muscle relaxers, ibuprofen, laying on a heating pad, and covered in bruises. For all of those immediately concerned about Brent’s well-being, he is absolutely fine…this stupidity belongs solely to me.

I have an old office chair in my dining area that we keep there for guests and for me to sit in and roll about the kitchen when my get up and go has got up and went. Lazy? Sure…that fits…but try to remember back to when your babies were newborns and you were up every hour on the hour tending to their every whim. While Brent is thankfully not wearing diapers as of yet, there are many nights where my sleep schedule consists of 15 minute power naps interrupted by anxiety, Brent’s sugar crashes, sugar spikes, breathing machine alarms, cats jumping on my face in need of food or water (or just for fun). I do these things with gratitude and an overwhelming sense of love because I get the opportunity to show Brent how worthy of love he truly is and that even if I need a roller chair to get the job done in the wee hours of the morning, it will get done.

Now that you have the context, I was sitting in the office chair with Brent tending to an ingrown hair on his face. (Seriously boys…why do your beard hairs do such weird things?) After I got that done, I went to wash my hands and sat back in the office chair next to him. He asked me for a wet wipe which were just barely out of reach on top of our beverage fridge. I scooted forward a little bit and reached up for the wipes and suddenly I saw the chair I was previously sitting in falling toward my face and felt the sensation of falling. I instantaneously felt a sharp edge penetrate my hip as the right side of my body specifically my hip, thigh and back landed on a case of Mountain Dew Zero. My knee tweaked to the left, I hit the tile floor on my right shoulder and laid there laugh crying trying to figure out how the hell I was going to get up. I waited for Brent to laugh…he never did (proof he is a better person than I am).

After a brief rest on the floor moving various parts to make sure nothing was broken, I hobbled up from the floor and took some ibuprofen. We got Brent situated in bed, after I, I got his wet wipe so I didn’t fall for no reason, and got him hooked up to his breathing machines and whatnot. I knew I was going to hurt in the morning, so I took some Nyquil to help me sleep and used my adjustable mattress to find as much comfort as possible for the moment.

The next morning I woke up hurting. Brent was still asleep, but I knew the only way out was through, so I got the water bottles outside for Culligan to refill and we did Brent’s morning routine. I was moving sluggish and felt like a truck ran over me, backed up, and then did donuts on my right side. As I was just about to wrap up the morning tasks, I began making a pot of coffee…figuring caffeine would not hurt at this point. So, I took the office chair and oh so gingerly sat down (I hurt so many of the muches). I was sitting in the chair and I reached for the filter that was less than two inches in front of me when I heard the sound of plastic cracking violently. I felt myself start to fall again, I grabbed the edge of the sink and held on for all I was worth as my left knee tweaked to the right, I hyper extended my right arm so badly I had to let go and I landed squarely on my coccyx (tailbone for us less fancy folks).

I sat there sobbing through fits of laughter. Not sure if it was pain or just pure ridiculousness that could result in not one, but two separate falls in less than twelve hours. Brent looked like a ghost. He felt so helpless and he never once laughed at me - which made me feel like so much more of a jerk after that one time he tipped over in his recliner. I got myself back up, made the pot of coffee, called my niece to see if she would possibly be available to help with some errands or staying with Brent while I had to get myself checked. The Hot Mess Club were super worried and insisted that I try to get to a doctor. One of the HMC mentioned that there is a medical service that will come right to your house, do an exam, write scripts, schedule mobile x-rays, and you never have to leave the bed. So I called them.

They too agreed that it was very unlikely that I was broken, but they are worried about my coccyx and shoulder. I am waiting for the mobile x-ray team to have availability to confirm and am on all the pretty, pretty drugs until then. Brent is being super protective, refusing to ask for help he needs so I have to keep getting up and in his face every little bit to make sure that he is getting his needs met.

So why share with the internet how clumsy I am and how idiotic it is to use a chair that is nearly 8 years old and weighted for someone 200lbs or less? We’ve all heard the Japanese proverb, “Fall down seven times, get up eight.” A message of perseverance and hope. While I was trying to take this to a literal place this week, my mind is taking me to other places.

We don’t control the circumstances of our lives. We cannot control the illnesses we are diagnosed with, or the actions of others that cut us to our core. We cannot stop the words spoken against us or who may or may not believe them - regardless of how true those statements may be. But what we can control is what we do when faced with those circumstances.

When Brent got his diagnosis of not only ALS, but cancer to add to his pre-existing diabetes, we could have crawled into a bed together and spent the rest of our lives sobbing and feeling sorry for ourselves. But we chose to get up. We are fighting the fights we can, one day at a time. When we lose a job, a family member, our financial security, our friendships, our ability to trust others, we have the option to stay down or stand back up.

I am still not well. I am hurting in places I didn’t know that I could, but I am standing back up. I am taking care of Brent AND myself. Being cautious not to exert myself even when the medicine makes me feel like I am mostly “normal”. I am putting projects on hold that I had intended to work on around the house this week and instead am focusing on taking care of me both physically and emotionally.

I encourage anyone who may be going through something right now who finds themselves on the floor looking at the ceiling with hot tears stinging their cheeks. Feeling the bruises already started to form and trying to fight with your own mind that it would just be so much easier to lay there and stop fighting. There is a reason to get up. You cannot see it right now - the pain is too fresh. But there IS a reason. Even if this is the 9,999,999th fall, get up just once more and let time (and muscle relaxers) help you change your perspective. And remember…you’re not alone on that floor. Look around, grab the hand of the friend or family who finds themselves on the ground and work together to find your feet.

Now…take a step. Limping or not, you’re walking.