The ice of March has come and gone with a vengeance. I found out the hard way one fateful day when I didn’t wear my Yaktrax. I knew the driveway was icy. I knew a fall could be disabling, but did I listen to that little inside voice of reason? Did I ask my husband to attach my ice grippers since they’re difficult to put on? Did I take the five minutes the task required?
The answer to the above questions is a resounding NO! And boy, do I regret it. The Sunday afternoon was beautiful. The sky was blue, breezes warm, and it was easy to believe that spring was just around the corner.
I clamped the leash on Mr. Magoo and we headed up the driveway for his afternoon walk. Before heading out, I briefly considered asking Dick to attach the ice grippers on my winter boots, but discarded the idea. I’d be fine!
We walked halfway up the driveway; my mind wandering everywhere but on my feet, so I was completely surprised when my foot slipped and my poor old body began a downward spiral to the ground. As the world geared down to slow motion, I did not relive the events of my life.
No, as I pin-wheeled through the air, I had visions of wheelchairs, crutches, bedpans, hospital beds and nurses. I begged the gods of ice to be kind. When I hit, I hit hard, but the first thing I did was try to get up.
It wasn’t easy, but my legs finally gained purchase, and I was able to sit. I took inventory. No broken arms, legs seemed fine. Shaky but cognizant, I was thrilled that no bones were broken. However, a trip to the doctor confirmed a bruised hip, and I’ve spent the last month, mostly confined to the house recuperating.
As I moped around one dreary day, feeling sorry for myself, a realization struck. I wasn’t alone. Fellow Americans were also confined to their homes as their governors issued orders to “shelter in place” and stay “safer at home.”
I’ve found a solution for my “ice” problem—a wonderful boot with retractable spikes called “Ice Bugs.” I can only hope that a solution to the Corona Virus is found as quickly.
Leave a Reply