Losing Equilibrium

How easily our  equilibrium tips out of balance. This time it was a hard fall.

We had just started the standing portion of his exercises. I had to bug him to even start them. Some days are just like that. All of a sudden, I saw him lean to the left, tring to catch his balance. I was only 3 feet away and I reached out to grab him but just missed.

CRASH! He hit the tile floor hard with his hip and his elbow, and his head slammed into an antique victrola case next to him, bouncing open a door.

Okay, we were lucky. He didn’t break anything. There was no bleeding. It wasn’t a crisis.

Most of his falls, which happen at least once a week even with the walker, are slow and soft. His biggest concern when he lands on the floor is how to position himself so I can help him up.

This time he just wanted to lay on the floor and not move. I go through the whole routine – checking his head for blood, checking his pupils, asking about dizziness.

I feel adrenaline and fear that morphs into anger – at him for falling, at me for not catching him and for urging him to exercise in the first place.

So after just a few minutes his self-assessment is that he’s okay. We figure out how to get him off the floor, without hurting my already aching back.

He takes it easy all day. The outing we’d planned for the day is off. I readjust my mind to a different day.

But the fear sits with me. The unpredictable nature of each day eats at me. I find it hard to stay present with the fact that things are okay for now.  My body stays tense, as if waiting for the next blow.

I’ve lost my equilibrium, just as surely as he lost his when he fell.