Posted in It's all in a day's work.

Free Fallin’

Do you ever have one of those, shut your office door and cry, three different times in one day, kind of day?

No?!

Hmmm. Well I do! And I did. Just last week. Or was it this week.  Okay, so maybe I have those days more often than not.  Anyway, it had been quite an overwhelming day with a major shortage risk trying to creep its way in at our highest output factory.

Finally, 5:00pm came and I was heading out the door with my handbag (it’s not a purse-that is slang, I learned that early on in my retail buying career from a seasoned vet buyer) and my knock-off Yeti.  Or so I thought.

Next thing I know, I’m face down on the pavement, at the bottom of a set of 6 cement steps. Yep! I fell.

See, I’m already clumsy sometimes, so that certainly doesn’t help the equation and I can be careless about trusting all will be okay (No. Faith-filled. That’s what it is, I’m faith-filled). So as I was about to take the first step downward, the heel of my shoe got caught and gravity worked alongside that mess and pulled me forward.  My shins took the brunt of the fall as they smacked one of the steps, with my knees trailing behind to the next step and ending with my left elbow halting the fall against the pavement. As all this was happening in the physical realm, I was having an “out of body” moment. I was hovering above myself, seeing the fall, thinking… “Oh no, I’m falling. I’m falling. What am I gonna do. How can I stop this. I can’t. I can’t stop this. Oh no.” And in the end, there was no stopping it. I was falling whether I wanted to or not.

So there I was. Face down. On pavement. My handbag and 2 cell phones (yes, I’m That important) sporadically scattered at the bottom of the steps and my knock-off Yeti lying there with all water gone from it; even my fruit diffuser flung across the ground.

Even though I was still in complete schlock and trying to process what just happened, I decided I needed to get up because I simply couldn’t be found, face down lying at the bottom of these steps. So I pushed myself up from the ground and was able to maneuver myself to sit on the bottom step.  “I’m okay. I’m fine.” I kept telling myself. I looked around to see everything scattered about on the pavement and thought, okay what’s my next move. I need to get my phone and let hubby know I’ll be delayed in getting home. I started to move to get my phone, yet went nowhere because my body simply hadn’t gotten past the shock or initial pain.

“And, I’m not okay. I’m not fine and now I can’t reach my phones to even call for help.” What in the world am I going to do?

Mind you, I haven’t even looked at any injury yet because my main thought was, let’s get home and I’ll clean myself up there. Granted, this is totally the wrong approach and breaks many, if not all, of most companies’ safety procedures for accidents. But my ego was so bruised; I simply wanted to get home.

(All of this processing really only happened in a matter of 3 minutes, but with my writing you’d think I’d been sitting there half an hour at this point.)

As I sat, debating how I will even get home at this point, a car starts to back out. This could be my answer. Or wait, do I really want this colleague, whoever it may be (as I don’t recognize the vehicle), to come to my rescue?? Can you believe I even pondered that!?  I mean at this point, I have no other options because I couldn’t get my body to move to even pick up my phones.  Geez!  The things one thinks to avoid being seen after an embarrassing accident. The gal rolls down her window and to my surprise it’s our safety manger. Needless to say she pulls back in, and comes to my first aid rescue.

As she’s cleaning my wounds and bandaging me up, she begins to lay an ice pack on one shin and tells me certain warning signs to watch for throughout the night. I’m listening. I’m getting queasy. I’m thinking, ‘man I’m glad it’s not a 90 degree day’. I start to feel nauseated. I casually move said ice pack from my shin to my neck in order to avoid throwing up all over her and potentially passing out. And all of this happened as another colleague joined to support in any way. Yes, let’s make it a group effort-oh the embarrassment of it all!

(And by the way, how in the world did I have 3 kids??)

After she finishes and I think my nausea has passed, she looks at me and says, “Can you please let me take you home, you don’t look well enough to drive yourself.” Clearly, not all color had returned from the conclusion of the ‘what-to-look-for’ signs conversation, and I gave in to the offer (because sadly, I would have had to sit there another 30 minutes just to regain composure to drive 10 minutes home).  Both colleagues gathered my things and helped me to her car.

So the lessons learned… Always use the hand rail. Don’t ever be too embarrassed to accept needed help—Be Real Folks.  And, don’t drink too much Coke-this could have been reason for my fall (just kidding, but I had to include some sort of “coke” joke).

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