The Fall

(click image to make it big like ox)

So a few weeks ago I fell...hard. Like most awful moments, life-changing moments, or tragic moments, "the fall" happened so fast I had no time to react, and it was over before I realized it'd begun. In fact, by the time I realized I'd fallen I was already sure I'd broken my back. And to a degree, I had.

It was the Tuesday morning the week before Christmas. I was working on a model of a school for a card and Julia had taken charlie to Waldorf. Adela had just arrived and was taking Tommy for a walk. Before she left I asked her to make a trip to Fischer lumber to grab some plywood so that I could anchor the school to something more solid than foam core. I knew she'd need to know the measurements of the board so after she left I ran out to the new garage with my tape measure.

As you can see, provided you have sight, our new garage is sunken and requires the descent of four steps to gain entry. Initially these steps were plain old poured concrete. That's all we wanted, nothing fancy, but as the garage was built and started looking hot we needed something better than just grey concrete. That's where those tiles come in. Those are Saltillo tile, 12 inch. The same tile, though many years newer, as the tile we have all over our house. If you happen to live in Los Angeles you'll recognize these tiles because they're everywhere and they don't draw attention to themselves, not like some fancy Moroccan tile that thinks it's better than you.

At this point it had been raining for several days, nothing deluge-esque but enough to water the grass and make things wet...things like tile.

Our older Saltillo tile has acquired a not unpleasant grittiness to it. These tiles are weathered, experienced and they aren't afraid to show their age. They are the clint eastwood of tiles. The new tiles are young and pretty, shiny and smooth. They're the fresh-faced "it" girl of hollywood before her soft core porn hits the net. I'm officially stopping that metaphor here. Why? Here's why: When you get these tiles wet, you slide ride off.

I found this out the hard way. I also found out that wearing slippers to "run out and take a quick measurement" is le stupid. Look at the picture and imagine my footing. My right foot was on the very top row of tiles and I'd just stepped down with my left foot onto the second step. That was when friction disappeared. The next thing I felt was my spine cracking against the edge of the tile step. I bounced to the bottom with a jerk and lay motionless, alone, moaning, in the rain. 

I was sure I'd broken my back and was relieved I was able to wiggle my toes. But panic immediately took hold. Being convinced I'd broken my back I was also certain the odds of inducing paralysis by movement were pretty decent. I screamed as loud as I could for Adela to come back from her dog walk, she'd only just left after all. And these were not timid screams, these were blood-curdling-please-help-me screams. These were screams meant to draw attention to a desperate situation. 

And no one heard.

Now fear of paralysis began giving way to fear of death. Keep in mind that I felt my spine hit the thin, acute edge of a tile and concrete step. It not only hurt extremely bad, it was terrifying. All I knew was that I could move, but I was 100% positive that your spine couldn't take that kind of trauma without experience significant damage. I also figure my odds at internal bleeding at about 50/50. So I began to drag myself, not crawl, drag, up the steps, across the yard, up more steps, and into the kitchen. 

I usually can't find my cell phone, but fortunately it was sitting on the table where I came in. I called Julia and moaned, "You need to come home right now." Actually she was home already. She was just walking in the gate, which I heard slam. She ran in, and got me to the hospital. On the way over I called our contractor and left a message similar to this: "We have to do something about those steps. Rip them out or something. I don't care. I'm going to the hospital."

I was examined by Dr. Mcdonald in the ER and he said the examine went well but that I needed xrays An hour or two later those results came back and showed that my T12 vertebra was "narrowed." Apparently that indicates a possible fracture, but not a serious one, and one that requires no treatment beyond pain medication on common sense. 

So for a few days I could it easy and downed Advil. I was given a prescription for Vicodin, but apparently it doesn't work on me because three advil were more helpful than two vicodin.

Julia was super awesome. She picked up all the slack and took care of the kids virtually by herself, I helped by holding Elliot as much as I could and by reading stories and stuff. Even weeks later I'm in decent pain, but frankly I'm amazed I'm not in more pain. In fact, within a few days I was wanting to work out again, though the thought of sit ups freaked me out. The worst part is the memory though. I can still feel my spine hitting the edge of that step, and every time I think about it I shiver. 

I learned a few things:

1. We need a handrail (we now have two)
2. Slippers are not substitutes for shoes.
3. Focus, stay alert, think before you act (Are you going down some steps in the rain? Take a moment to make sure you aren't doing something stupid, like wearing slippers.)
4. It's amazing how much punishment the human body can take. When I see someone in a wheelchair because of a traumatic accident I'm going to be amazed they survived because as hard as I hit the step, and as much pain as I was in, I did very little actual damage. Someone in a wheelchair because of an accident, I can't even begin to imagine the force of that trauma. Jesus.