I have been laying for two weeks. Laying in bed, laying on the floor, laying in front of the fire, laying in the bath, laying draped over a yoga ball. I am injured. How many times have I written that? David suggests it's because I'm the person that climbs the ladder instead of just noticing it and walking by. I climb the ladder even though it is late on a Sunday night and Coderre and I are about to watch the last episode of House of Cards. I still decide that the best thing to do is experience the new stairs leading to the attic. The stairs arrived that day, replacing a rickety ladder that all but forbade me to check on the attic's progress. I was taking in this delicious new experience slowly, as one would savor their half of a cookie. This was, afterall, the entryway to my future private penthouse suite. Ooh, this is so nice. I love this. I reach the top step of the stairs and stand there. And the stairs fall away. They simple leave my feet and fall to the floor below. I've been asked if time moved slowly and I can say that this moment seemed to stretch. This moment when I stood on air before falling backwards, through the opening, like Kim Novak in Vertigo, arms and legs akimbo searching for anything to slow the descent before landing, on my back, on the ladder. Before I went into shock my brain took stock and said Not Good.
Not good. She was right. But not terrible either. I suffered a minor concussion and fractured two vertebra. But I am alive! Fuck yes! I have use of all my limbs! Praise be! I am battered and bruised and tangled and crooked but I am still me. It makes me cry just to say that.
And so I lay here and read the Times and read my books and listen to an audio book. Words fill the gaps when I'm not just thinking about my body and trying to understand what the pain is telling me and how to ease it. I spend hours laying on my stomach tracing my insides, asking questions, listening. Trying to understand what the climb tells me. What the fall tells me. And how I can be content with two feet on the ground.