Accident Prone, Me? Part 2

Accident Prone, Me?
Part 2

Walking on the street in Golden, Colorado, a friend and I spy a neat little sports bar across the street we decide to try for lunch.  And, I know what you are thinking, no, we had not just come from touring Coor's brewery where free samples are offered at the conclusion of the tour though I have been there on other trips to Golden.  Luckily, it was Winter and I was wearing multiple layers for padding and snow boots, as I took a flying eagle dive right off the curb. This time, no broken bones, just a twisted ankle treated with ice and a bruised ego.  And, yes there was a witness; a complete stranger who went on and on about how I bounced. Again, just what I wanted to hear.

Next incident, four stitches to the back of the ear courtesy of my cat; emergency room visit #5 for me and for the cat; quarantine compliments of the Department of Public Health with six days in-house confinement.  That's right, let's make an already angry cat even more combative by confining her to the house, against her will,  for six days.

Then there was the skiing accident in North Carolina. I would like to be able to relay to you this grandiose story about how I was headed down the triple diamond slope at thirty miles an hour when “the incident” occurred. But, from an early age, my mother taught me the consequences of telling a lie.   In not so grandiose fashion, I was walking across the beginner yard to locate my nephew when I was clipped at the ankles from behind by a child on one of those Frisbee looking sledding disks. I must confess, I wasn't even wearing ski's at the time.  Yet another witness comes forward, again a complete stranger, to let me know just how high my feet went above my head. Another glorious site for all to see…. really cute ski patrol guys to my rescue and a quick dose of oxygen for concussion.  By the way, did you know that when you hit the back of your head, it hurts in the frontal lobe; something to do with a little thing called "brain shifting".

On to the next “incident”.   Being in the real estate business, I’m out showing a house one day. Clients want me to enter the attic from an upstairs bonus room so they can show me the lack of insulation in the attic.  Since it was about 104 degrees in the attic at the time, I didn't particularly want to venture in there and honestly couldn't give a rats about how much insulation was or wasn't in the attic at this point.  However,   I appease them and dive in.  All was going well until I attempted to exit the attic into the bonus room…you know, through one of those short doors that look like they are made for elves.  Thinking I have cleared the door threshold, I heave myself up and out of the attic; obviously misjudging, I had not cleared the threshold. The entire house literally shook from the force of my head hitting it. I was expecting to see blood at any moment.  I now know what it looks like when people say they saw stars.  Like a dedicated trooper, though, I continue to show houses; blurred vision, excruciating pain and all; emergency room visit #6; diagnosis concussion and neck injury from the blunt force.
I mean, really, tell me how many times have you heard of a real estate agent being injured while showing a house. I will never live that one down amongst my colleagues. But, I'm a good sport and I guess I concur, it was quite amusing.  The ER doctor, a nice, soft spoken young lady, said to me, “now that I think you are o.k.; cat scan shows no initial bleeding, I just have to laugh”.  I told her go right ahead; as her staff has not stopped laughing since I entered the door.

Well, I guess you get the picture. And, the sad thing is, to be honest, there are MORE “mishaps” to list.  So, reluctantly, I accept defeat.  Yes, it does appear that I just may be accident prone, clumsy, graceless, all thumbs or slightly less than agile; whatever term you prefer.  However, to preserve a fragment of my dignity and, of course to be politically correct, I prefer to refer to it as “gravitationally challenged”.  A colleague tells me that he has bubble wrap ordered for me, and I’m instructed not to move a muscle until it has been delivered.  So in the meantime, I’ll be on the sofa.