Fallen

Though news of any accident involving myself may not come to most people as "news" but mere "eventualities", I'd just like to mention it right here as a preamble so we can get that over with right away.

I injured myself tonight. I just came from watching a movie with Tal, Karl, and Gary and while walking home just off the Shangri-La curb, I tripped. Tripped on what exactly - I'm still not sure. But I twisted my right ankle, landed on and scraped my left knee, almost ripped my denim at its point of impact, scratched the heels of my hands in my attempt to break the fall.

So instead of walking our way home, we had to take a cab. And when I was getting on it, I took a misstep with the injured foot and almost did a repeat performance. Apparently, I just can't get enough of the concrete. It's not enough that I walk on it. I have to be one with it.

I am adept at falling.

I guess it's natural to acquire a sense of deftness in something you always get to do. And it's not the act itself that I have accumulated skills in. After all, falling is less of something you make happen than something that happens to you. But skills in handling the post-impact.

Here's the thing. Once you've found yourself from an upright walking biped to a sad subhuman who fell on all fours - the first thing you want (or you're likely) to do is to scream expletives in the loudest decibel your lungs can manage. I've encompassed the expletive spectrum from kolehiyala "goshes" to mild euphemisms to outright good old vernacular curses. The devil-pertaining Visayan ones are particularly accessible. The anger and frustration is expected. It's acceptable even if the anger is directed at inanimate objects like crooked floors or uneven carpeting. Also acceptable if you're directing them at yourself. Of all the stupid, thoughtless, careless things to do.

But of course, while superficially satisfying at the particular moment of impact, cursing does not dull the pain. At some point, you just have to stop and pause. Find out where it hurts. Find out if something was broken, torn, or strained. Or all of the above. This self-assessment often requires tentative movements. A lot of wincing also follows, so this is not really a part where poise is a standout presence. It's very probable that there's a trail of mess everywhere. Maybe even blood.

Once you are aware of the damages, you relocate yourself. Assuming that most of the venues of these inelegant occasions happen in open public. So you go and find yourself a quiet corner or a curb where you sit down and try to soothe your pain. Friends, if they are around at the time, can help you. Sometimes you can not fully appreciate their sympathies right then and there - because you're hurting, goshdarnit, and no one will really understand. At least, never totally. But eventually you realize how pathetic-er it is to be pathetic alone than to be pathetic with friends.

There will be a time - unimaginable as it may be - that the pain will subside and you'd be able to consider other things. Still related to the pain, yes, but other things nevertheless. Like your self-esteem. Or its consequential degradation thereof. It occurs to you now how many people have seen you make a fool of yourself. The embarrassment of it all. The implacable awkwardness of vulnerability. What will they think? Poor you. What a klutz. But trust me, unless this was one of those rare hopeless situations - there will always be a little pride and defiance left in you to to question who the hell are they, anyhow.

Hopefully, there remains enough sensibilities for you to get up from that corner, to stand up and leave. Limp painfully if you must, but get a move on and be somewhere else. Because - come on - staying and wallowing in self-pity is just plain inexcusable disservice to one's self. It's not really anyone's fault. Falling is only bad when there's no one to catch you but the cold hard concrete.

I may have taken a figurative turn in all this logorrhea somewhere, I'm not sure. I've always had a poor sense of direction. Don't mind me. I'm just the klutz with liniment on her ankle and betadine on her knee.