Life Balance

 

Martin likes to remind me that balance is important as we make decisions about how to spend our time – doing chores or taking naps. But there is another kind of life balance. The one that prevents falling.

I recently had my first infusion of Zometa. As a cancer survivor, I take hormone blockers and bone loss is a side effect. I am currently at osteopenia (medical term indicating “pre” osteoporosis), thus the need for an infusion. I follow my doctor’s orders and am very careful because a fall could result in bone injury.

I was watching my friend’s bird as he took his almond treat and held it in one claw to eat it while standing on the other claw.  I expressed appropriate awe and said that if you offered me cheesecake, I couldn’t stand on one leg long enough to eat it.

In the Great Ice Storm of 2021 in Texas, I slipped on the sidewalk and danced grotesquely as I slid around but was proud that I managed to remain standing.

I decided that riding a bike would help me develop balance. I have often heard the adage “once you learn how to ride a bike, you never forget.” My research indicates that this is because of procedural memory. I slipped into the garage, checked to be sure neighbors weren’t watching, and got Sara’s bicycle. I pushed it to my back sidewalk, released the kick stand, and began to wonder just how I was to get up on that seat. It was higher than I would have preferred because Sara is taller than me. Everyone is taller than me. I hopped a couple of times to get myself up and realized that even when I arrived at the seat destination, I had to keep one foot on the ground. Then I envisioned the act of falling on a bicycle. Finally, I acknowledged that my fear of falling outweighed my desire to ride. I walked the bicycle back to the garage. My experiment took less than two minutes.

Every doctor visit I am asked, “have you fallen recently?” And my recent appointment was no exception. I quickly gave my usual negative answer but then stopped and said, “well, except for the time I was jumping rope.”

 Jennette and Geordan were at our house and were trying to learn double Dutch jump rope in the living room.  They struggled with our verbal instructions, so Martin offered to demonstrate. He managed one jump before he fell to the floor. Literally fell on his backside and sat there dazed at the loss of this childhood skill. I laughed and visioned my many hours of experience on playgrounds across the country (no, I wasn’t competing, we just moved a lot) and I stepped up to surprise them. I immediately landed on the floor beside Martin.

My doctor was less impressed with my story than I expected and just asked, “Did you break any bones?”

So far, I have never broken a bone and I am hopeful that record will hold. But I may give up pretending to ride bikes and jumping ropes.  Maybe I will try standing on one leg and eating cheesecake.