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It was midafternoon, straight up. With the flow of magical words drying up while typing at the computer, it was time to get up, stretch the legs, clear my head and take a walk. Medical experts agree, it’s good for your health. Not in this case.
On this particular Tuesday, my work-break walk was a little different, opting for a slight change to the routine. After leaving the Valencia County News-Bulletin office, I turned south down Main Street in Belen instead of heading west on Didier Avenue as usual.
Normally on these walks, there is a consistent thought process: how’s that story coming along, which game am I covering next, what’s for dinner? However, the change in direction must have scrambled my brain a little bit. Could my thoughts have manifested what was about to happen? Was there a foreshadowing that I didn’t see coming?
It’s not unusual for me to notice the poor shape that streets and sidewalks are in, but on this day, it preoccupied my mind. I empathized with anyone who uses a walker, wheelchair or pushes a baby carriage. They may have to detour onto a road to avoid sidewalks that feature potholes, grassy mounds, broken concrete or are uneven, with one side several inches higher than the other.
This is not just a Belen issue, but a national issue. Years ago, with my wife, Patty, in a wheelchair because of a broken foot, pushing her around Missoula, Mont., was exasperating. Missoula city fathers realize the problem, but decades of arguing over who will pay for upgrades hasn’t solved it. During the walk I contemplated the sorry state of infrastructure across the country: roads, bridges, buildings and, yes, sidewalks.
Where is this leading? Down Main, west on Gilbert Avenue, then right on South Ninth Street. By the time I reached what I thought was the halfway point of my journey, a clear thought-pattern was rattling around.
“Boy, these conditions could cause me to fall,” I reasoned. “If I trip, remember to turn onto your right side,” because a doctor suggested it would be difficult to damage my artificial right shoulder.
The coup de grace came shortly before the “incident,” when I decided to shift a handkerchief from my pants to a jacket pocket because it would be easier to reach. Seconds later, with several neighborhood dogs barking at me from across the street, I tripped either on broken concrete or an uneven sidewalk. I fell like a 183-pound sack of potatoes.
There was no stumbling to give me time to catch my balance. I did, amazingly, think in that split-second about what my doctor said, so I rotated my body to the right-side.
The shoulder hit first, followed by my head. Next there was a squeal of anguish and, as I saw my broken glasses beside me, out roared a loud expletive. It was a scene straight from “A Christmas Story,” except it was me, not Ralphie, howling, fudge!
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As I tried to stand, blood began dripping from a decent-sized gash above the right eye. Boy, was I grateful to have easy access to my hanky, to stem the flow.
As I trudged back into the office, editor/publisher Clara Garcia shouted from another room, “That didn’t take very long.” I responded, “I fell.”
That sent my coworkers into action. STAT. Clara ushered me to the company couch to lie down.
Julia Dendinger, our irascible assistant editor, became Florence Nightingale, tending to the wound. Cub reporter Felina Martinez, with a terrified look on her face, seemed to be uttering a silent prayer.
Soon, Felina lightened the mood by offering that the damaged face will increase my street cred. Newsrooms love dark humor.
Clara raced out for medical supplies, with Julia attending to the cut and swelling. After some tense moments, we all agreed the patient would survive.
Later that afternoon, I timidly revisited the scene, analyzing the droplets of blood like a CSI investigator. Across the road, the dogs were unusually silent, staring, either concerned for my well-being or afraid of another curse-orama.
All this left me to ponder a few things. Did I bring the misfortune on myself with negative thoughts during the walk? Several people close to me believe negativity can attract unwanted experiences, while positivity can do the opposite. Something to think about.
Do I look at the result as bad luck or good fortune? Yes, the fall hurt like crazy, but no doubt it could have been worse. There might have been a trip, no pun intended, to the hospital. It might have ended the dream of modeling for AARP The Magazine. The face, such as it is, has mostly returned to normal.
The response at work and at home were reminders about what a blessing it is to have caring people around me. Thank you.
Over the years, I have been implored to have a more positive outlook, and all this may have finally clinched it. Just today, I was grumbling about road construction when the realization hit me that the workers are improving our infrastructure. Dang, maybe I am a changed man.
Signed, Mr. Look on the Brightside.
