For the past two weeks, I have been closeted in my house, leaving only to visit doctors’ offices. I am walking around with a broken nose and an ugly “goose egg” on my forehead as the result of a fall. I can’t describe how ugly that big knot and the bruise marks are on my face, so I certainly do not want to get out in public.

I have no pain from the facial injuries, but my fingers gave me fits. X-rays showed there were no breaks, but my fingers were so sensitive I could only stand to touch them with lukewarm water.

I am healing, of course, and I realize it is a slow process. I hate looking in the mirror, but I am praising our Lord that I do not have a broken hip, or some other injury that can be so serious for someone my age.

My mishap puts me in mind of some minor injuries my son and my grandchildren had when they were growing up. I remember remarking that my husband and I aged 10 years the day our four-year-old son dashed into a wading pool pole in a public park and cut his head. We drove to the nearest emergency room with a towel of ice pressed against his head. His daddy kept telling me to just hold the towel and not look at his injury. It required several stitches. I remember crying as he screamed in pain. Later that day, his head swathed in a bandage, he went outside to play. My heart did a flip-flop a few minutes later when I glanced out the window and saw him hanging head down on the bars of his swing set, enjoying himself.

Our daughter waited until she was a teenager to give us a scare. She broke a glass washing dishes and cut her wrist. I was spared the anxiety because I was at work, but still felt weak-kneed when her daddy called me. We were blessed that he was home to rush her to the emergency room.

When our granddaughter was around 3, she gave her mother a big scare at a house wares party when she choked on a sugar cookie. Suddenly I saw my daughter grab her, flip her upside down and hold her by her feet while someone else pounded her on the back. Another time we spent some anxious minutes when we thought she had swallowed a penny while we were riding to church. What a relief it was when we found the penny under a car seat.

At 2, our oldest grandson stood up in a walker, pushed a door open, and tumbled down a flight of stairs. His parents were practically basket cases from that, but he was barely hurt. Another time, he stood up in a lawn chair causing it to topple. That resulted in a cut on his cheek, which required a clamp.

We all survived, although sometimes we wondered if we would.

 

 

Nina Keenam is retired from the newspaper industry.