So, I promised a little more detail about my ER visit in San Francisco. The beginning is a little boring. Deanna and I checked in — handed over the necessary insurance cards and filled out the necessary paperwork — and then watched Anderson Cooper interview Adele on a small TV in the corner of a small waiting room.
Before we saw the doctor, I had to answer a few questions: Was I allergic to any medications? Have I ever experienced this before? Have I fallen at any time in the past six months?
I looked at Deanna, then back at the nurse. It was a second or two before I could answer her, because I thought she must be crazy. Of course I’d fallen in the past six months. Who hasn’t? Who only falls twice a year?
In addition to a green bracelet that was used to denote admission to the hospital, the nurse gave me a second bracelet. The second one was yellow, and it labeled me a “Fall Risk.” I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised, but I was. I mean, yes, I fall a bunch — I flatter myself by saying that I’m somewhat of a falling professional — but I really didn’t expect falling more than twice in six months made me a risk for the hospital.
Everything else was mostly uneventful, save for the doctor’s thrilled reaction to see my leg hyperextend during a routine test of my reflexes. “That’s awesome!” he said, before trying the test a second time. I guess a mild case of CP isn’t a typical site in an ER. I was relieved that at least one of us was enjoying ourselves.
Weeks later, I was still thinking about the nurse’s comment. I had told my parents the whole story — from the silver fox reporter to the enthusiastic doctor — but I just couldn’t get over the “Fall Risk” bracelet. Being responsible, mature parents, my mom and dad did they only thing they could. They made a bet with me. If I can go six months without falling, they’ll take me out to dinner.
The bet started on March 2. I lasted 13 days, falling on March 15th on my way into a restaurant to meet some friends for dinner (you can’t say I don’t know how to make an entrance). My parents allowed me a do-over, so I’m working on going six months, fall-free, from March 16th. Cross your fingers for me, and feel free to place your bets, readers. If you’ve been knocked out of your March Madness pools, this may prove to be an entertaining second choice.