Yes, we do... and I, for one, don't enjoy it! It's painful, it makes me feel stupid, and I've done it enough for a lifetime.
My guess is you all think I'm talking about sex, or that I've lured you into reading this hoping it's about sex, but it's not. It's about falling. Indeed, the simple act of falling. Being fat alters one's ability to maintain a good center of balance. While I've had weight issues almost my entire life, I'm most embarrassed about it at this moment. It's the fattest I've ever been. It's the most at risk I've been for injury (and I've had a LOT of injuries in the past; it wasn't a big deal for me to enter my High School on crutches... nobody took a second look).
I was at a baseball game two weekends ago. No, I'm not a huge fan, but it was a birthday gift from my parents to my husband. Anyway, I have a handicapped permit due to my arthritis and disk disease so of course we parked in those spots. I noticed that the only ramp I saw served probably a dozen parking spaces. I was in the middle of making a comment to my husband about it (and how the curb in front of the many handicapped spaces should really be ramped) and the next thing I know I'm on the ground. I'm yelling "ouch. ouch." Now I go up steps every day at home and I successfully navigate ramps all the time at a variety of stores but this one had to get me... it had to win.
As I try to get up, I hear someone yelling at me to stay where I was. It turned out to be a security guard. As I hear her, I see ballpark paramedics coming towards me. The next thing I know my parents, along with her pastor (also a PA) and bunches of professionals have surrounded me. Fortunately I was far enough away from the actual park that my fall didn't cause a huge hullabaloo.
It takes two medics to heave me up onto the curb (you know, the one which should be a ramp). "What hurts? Are you okay? Do you need an ambulance?" The barrage of questions continued for a bit. "I don't think anything's broken." I'd have to agree, I can move all of my extremities and there are no bones sticking out from under my skin. My right shin was pretty cut up and my left ankle hurt (later my right ankle took over as the pain-ridden appendage, so was the one to get medical attention). As for the ambulance - how silly would it be to take the ambulance to a hospital I don't even like?!?
The medics squished (and I mean Squished - with a capital "S") me into a wheelchair and we took the elevator up to the box my Mom's church had gotten. The next thing was to pry me out of the chair - an adventure all of its own. They iced my abrasions and my right ankle and I spent the entire game in our air-conditioned box. As time went on, I noticed my right ankle causing me more pain, but I didn't think it was worth hunting down the paramedics.
Oh, did I mention they did an incident report? I mean, I guess they had to, but it all seemed so over the top. I fell. So what? Yeah, and I had to sign a "refusal of treatment" form. My father was there to make sure I wasn't signing my life away.
That was Saturday. Sunday comes along and I'm barely able to walk, with my left ankle swollen as if there was a baseball under the skin. I try to get up and nearly fall to the ground. My lower half has been beaten up, or so it felt. I decided that after church I needed to have x-rays done. Off to OUR ER we go. The x-rays were negative, but both ankles and my right knee were sprained. Since my left ankle and right knee were the worst, I was given an air cast and immobilizer, respectively. They gave me an ace bandage for my other ankle. And off I went.
Fast forward to over a week later; Tuesday. I see a new doctor who gives the most attention to my worst injury, giving me a (huge, ugly) boot for my left ankle and ignored the rest of my injuries. He wanted to do an MRI and PT (with PT first), but I let him know the severity of my pain, so he ordered the MRI. Oh, did I mention that he wants me to see some friends of his at a local family practice to test me for diabetes. Yeah, more joys of being fat. Yes it runs in my family. Evidently given those two facts I must have fallen because my lower extremities were numb. No, they are far from numb - they hurt like the dickens! I've not done anything about the diabetes. I just got out of 3 weeks in the hospital and am certain their bloodwork included a sugar level! Remember, I'm fat and it runs in my family. Everyone assumes, yet somehow I've managed to avoid the beast.
So, the MRI was Friday and I await the results. I haven't scheduled a follow-up with this guy. I did NOT like him. He didn't listen to me and a medical student spent the most time with me. He was in and out and spoke so fast I couldn't follow. I was overwhelmed and didn't even have time to process what he had to say enough to tell him that even Vicodin wasn't helping the pain, so I said it to the student, who ordered an anti-inflammatory (yeah, Aleve didn't work either). Just so there is no confusion, I don't mind having med students in with me, but when he spends three times the amount of time with me than the doctor himself, I have a problem. I'm paying to see the doctor! Anyway, I had ligament surgery on my other ankle several years back and loved that doctor. I sent the MRI results to him, but unfortunately his first available appt isn't until early August. Ugh.
To sum up: being fat leaves one vulnerable to falling; being out of shape makes the likelihood of injury greater. If one is fat, s/he is bound to have diabetes so we'll just chalk this up to that and essentially ignore the pain of said fat person. Actually, I wonder if often my ailments are assumed to be fat-related. I KNOW losing weight will improve a lot of my pain issues, but in the meantime, I'm still in PAIN! I rambled about that in another post, so I'll let you go back and read that one - haha.
And I leave you with a word of gratitude for making your way through this incongruous post - in which the topic was far from your initial suspicions. Once again, I say that I will try to post more often - and hopefully with shorter posts and good news of any sort! :)
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