The Femme Fatale Life: I've Fallen, But I Can Still Get Up!

It seems that I can’t seem to stand on my own two feet sometimes. And my poor knees are taking a beating. At this rate, I’m going to outlive their usefulness.

When my daughter was a baby thirty-plus years ago, I carried her out of the bathroom where I had been giving her a bath into the tiled hallway. I suppose water from the bath dripped onto the hard tile hallway floor because next thing I knew I was falling—with a tiny baby in my arms! I managed to shield her but my right knee took all our weight. Ouch.

Another time I was playing baseball with the kids and I slipped on a homemade sheet metal base and cracked the same knee again. Ouch. Ouch.

Fast forward a few years. I am now wearing trifocals. They tend to become necessary with age, unfortunately. I believe they may be responsible for my recent mishaps.

I wanted my free birthday bundtlet from Nothing Bundt Cakes so my husband and I stopped for some treats. I missed the step to the sidewalk and cracked that old knee. I also ruined a new pair of boots. The girls in the cake shop saw the whole thing but they still made us pay for the second cake. It was embarrassing but messing up my new boots hurt worse, I think.

Last December I was in an airport at baggage claim with my son and his family when my grandson ran in front of me and knocked me down. Yes, on the same knee. In a crowded airport. I was able to get up with my daughter-in-law’s help and act like nothing had happened. I wanted to jump on the conveyor belt, disappear behind the flaps, and cry. Instead, I put on a brave face. But boy, did it hurt.

I don’t think I am completely recovered from that injury. It still hurts when I kneel on it. But did that keep me from falling yet again? Nope. I was outside a few days ago washing an outdoor chair and a Cozy Coupe when I stepped off the walk into a hole and hit both knees on the pebbled rough surface of our sidewalk. This time my poor knees bled profusely as I hobbled back inside to wash and bandage them. I am approaching the milestone birthday between 50 and 70 with skinned knees.

My daughter fears I will fall while carrying her two-month-old or her two-year-old. I’m too careful for that, right? I just hope when I turn 70 I’ll still be able to get up.