The Fall

Several years after developing my disability, I had a fall on the front veranda of my home. Unless, you’re a stunt man or woman there is never a ‘good’ fall. When you have a disability, there are only ‘bad’ falls. Falls in general, is one of those things that Doctors, will ask about to gauge your ability to be mobile and therefore independent. Those kinds of powers and abilities is in simple terms about getting to the toilet and moving around inside your home, not just about if you can leave your home and go to appointments and do things.

So, this particular fall I caught my left foot on a metal bar that protrudes from the fence at the front of the Terrace House I lived in at the time. The post was designed to stabilize the fence.

And this is when I fell, I managed to land hitting the left front of my head and my left shoulder. To say it was unexpected is an understatement. And that brick wall was hard. LUCKILY, there was no blood or piss for that matter however, I cannot tell you how much it hurt!

I actually whimpered. My mum was staying at the time and was 3 rooms away. By the time I got up using the fence for support mum was there. Of course, she scolded me with that usual ‘What the hell did you do?’

Yeah, but she was genuinely concerned. Of course, never mistake it!

As I had gotten up I had looked out across the street to see if anyone had witnessed my spill.

At the time, I lived opposite some low-level Public Housing.

A guy who lived on the ground floor who, saw me fall and I knew and waved ‘Hello’ to as he was always on his front balcony smoking and generally keeping an eye on the neighbourhood. He had gotten up with a concerned look on his face.

When he saw my mum, I gave him a wave to let him know I was OK.

Again, don’t ask me to define OK.

FYI, if you think that neighbourhood watch dog was a nice guy, think again! He broke his cats neck because (his neighbour told me) he thought the cat was listening to his conversations.

He did have Schizophrenia. But there is no excuse for killing an animal. And people wonder why I try so hard to stay out of Public Housing.

What remains of any good mental headspace would quickly vanish surrounded by that.

Anyway, back to the fall. Really don’t know what it did to my noggin. We queried my Doctor at the time if my brain had received any damage, however an MRI taken at the time were only aimed at the AVM site. (The opposite side of my head)

My left shoulder on the other hand remains a problem to this day. In so many ways including a constant and repetitive disagreement with my Mother. Did I dislocate my left shoulder, or didn’t I?

Had I hit my right shoulder, it would have become dislocated! Without doubt!

Because my left arm doesn’t work, my shoulder has reduced muscle tone. When I hit, the brick wall my muscles in my shoulder just stretched like an old rubber band and the bones just moved.

After some time, I did go to an emergency room and get it x-rayed.

Officially, it’s dislocated but NOT!

I did pay ‘out-of-pocket’ to see a private shoulder specialist. Partly to see how bad it really was and part to alleviate my mum’s stress. Yes, that’s what you do in these circumstances.

I distinctly remember meeting the specialist. Because he mostly saw sporting injuries and his opening question to me was ‘Now, what’s wrong with you?’

“How long have you got?” is how I responded. I of course gave him the brief rundown of my medical situation and disability.

He told me he could fuse my shoulder together which would guarantee it would never work again, but would put the arm bone (note – very simple terms) back into the shoulder socket but he told me it would lead to secondary issues across my upper back.

Still, many years later, I wear my arm in a collar and cuff when out of the house so I’m not carrying around dead weight and putting more stress on my shoulder.

If I sleep on that side, my shoulder clicks when I sit up in the morning. Sexy right?

Not to mention the pins and needles I get in my good hand.

This is a new/old thing I’m currently looking into. One thing worse than being one-handed, would be having 2 arms and legs and not being able to use either arms or legs.

Not wanting to give ‘power-to-words’ Let’s move on!