Trying to stand on my own two feet

About a week ago, I fell during physical therapy.

This is not supposed to happen, and my therapist was rattled. He usually circles around me and makes a quick correction if I start to lean. I was in a kind of slalom position on a balance board, trying to do mini-lunges with my back foot in a strap. When I was done, I put my left foot down, but I think my right foot got caught in the strap. Rob was on my right side while I fell to the left.

It didn't bother me as much as it bothered him. I got up and continued my exercises. The next day I noticed I had a huge black and blue mark on my shoulder.

Physical therapy has helped a lot. I actually really like it there. I passed my evaluation by showing progress but also some weaknesses, earning me the right to put in for six sessions after my first round ended.

So yesterday I was taking a bag of papers to the garage for our recycling bin. Two little steps lead to the garage and driveway. I've been up and down those steps countless times. Somehow I managed to trip over the last step and fall in the driveway.

The papers flew, and I found myself lying on my back. I looked at the trees for a while, hoping that someone would see me from the street and help me get up. Nobody stopped. Joe and Katie were both out.

My left wrist, elbow and ribs hurt the most. Finally I got up the only way I know how – rolling over onto hands and knees and pushing up from there. I had a bad gash in my elbow and sharp pain in my ribs. Joe came home first and helped me bandage the elbow. Once I collected myself, I felt it wasn't serious enough to call my doctor. I could breathe normally, although it hurt to take a deep breath and to cough, and I'm back to coughing quite a bit lately.

I did call Melissa today, and she said it sounded like it could wait until my appointment tomorrow.

In my mind now, a trip cannot just be a trip. The tears came when I got back into the house, now with blood dripping down my arm. I had to get an ice pack, but I could barely open the freezer; in fact, my left arm and hand are pretty useless now. Totally frustrated, I wondered: How can I be making progress if I trip on one step in my own driveway? And, in crazy mode, Maybe I had a little stroke.

I ruled out the stroke because I felt OK afterwords. And I realized that my problem might result from a medication issue. I guess I will find out tomorrow.

I have experienced some disconnect between my head and my feet before. I wasn't falling all over the place, but Once as a young mother I went for jog near our parents' house in Atlantic Beach (L.I.), happily sending my kids off to the beach with my mother. I was having a great run. Then I tripped on a crack and fell. I hit my left shoulder hard. (I have a big scar to prove it.) I happened to be in front of their friends' house. The friends brought me in, fixed me up, and called my parents. I'm sure they offered me a ride, but I said I'd run back, which I did, trying to keep the leaky bandage in place.

You might call me stubborn. Or clutzy.

Years later, I playied doubles the day before I was to return to the hospital for one of my many incarcerations. I felt good, and I decided I had to play. I had come home with my Hickman, which I just tucked into my bra.

I lunged for a shot and fell hard on my right shoulder, ending up in the ER. The shoulder was separated. They put a sling on and sent me on my way. During that hospitalization in Boston, my shoulder hurt more than any other pain I felt during that round of chemo. It healed oddly, and I now have a bump on my right shoulder.

Lesson?

Hmmmmm. Maybe nothing, because sometimes a trip is just a trip; it's something a lot of people do without giving it a thought.

Nonetheless, let's try this:

Pick your feet up and pay attention.

Happy Fourth, Dad

Simon, a huskie-collie-shepherd mix

(or something like that), shares Al's

patriotism after my father put up the

flag one 4th of July at Atlantic Beach,

Long Island.

One of my father's favorite rituals was hanging the flag outside the beach house on July 4. Later I will post a photo of tall skinny dad holding a big flag. There is another of Simon the dog looking up at it. Simon was a husky-collie and maybe shepherd mix and my first doggie love, unless you count Sam Gordon, our family dog who was an affenpincher -poodle mix, an adorable but kind of crazy little thing. It was a good day. They both look very patriotic.

My father, a good New York Jewish liberal, hated the forces he believed were wreaking havoc in our country. But he always said that despite everything, it was the best country in the world, and he was proud to be an American. His words became known as the "Al Gordon speech," and Ben uses some of them when he delivers his Thanksgiving speech.

It seems the country is in more trouble than when he died in early 2001, and the world is a mess. But I think of him fondly on this day (every other day too), think of his big smile, and try to remember that a little optimism never hurt.