~a column by Colleen O’Brien
I was sailing along into old age with nary a complaint. I did not brag about it around my contemporaries, several of them aging with serious health problems. I did not brag to my friends, but I admit I was full of relief…and hubris: great pride; as if I had something to do with it.
I didn’t. I have not taken such great care of myself that I owed myself a pat on the back, I simply inherited good enough bones, heart, lungs, skin. The hair’s getting a little thin, but the head’s not bald. The feet throb now and then, but nothing that a soak in Epsom salts won’t ease. So, pushing quite a ways past 70, I am – was – full of hubris. No hospitals for me. Still riding my bike, not pushing a walker. Still taking the stairs, not the elevator. Still cleaning my own house and cooking my own food, not hiring a cleaning lady and ordering in pizza.
And then I step up on the couch to shut a window. A foot slips between the cushions, and Colleen is on the floor, neck first.
I was soon party to the full magillah – fire truck and EMTs (“What’s the day today?” “Who’s the President?”)_ Stretcher, emergency room, Intensive Care Unit, a rigid neck brace, hovering nurses, pain meds.
The doctor said I had two slightly fractured vertebrae, C1 and C2.
Not good, I thought, and I actually said this to myself: “At least you didn’t break anything, Colleen.”
I make a living copy editing, which means I correct other people’s words. Another prideful aspect of my 70-plus years, I was secure in my knowledge of just about any word you could throw at me. When the second doctor told me I was lucky I didn’t get paralyzed “when you broke your neck, Ms. O’Brien,” I would have fallen out of bed in surprise had I been able to move.
Why is it I didn’t know that the word ‘fracture’ meant ‘break’? I broke vertebrae C1 and C2. I broke my neck.
My idea of a broken neck was a head lying on a shoulder, cartoon fashion; this was how I pictured what “broken neck” looked like.
The moral of this tale of woe is manifold:
Do not walk on couches…at any age.
Keep your pride in check because the universe will get you if it notices your hubris.
Once you’re home alone with your broken neck, you’ll have to stuff your pride and ask friends to come in and help. Your pride will not be able to get you even a glass of water.
Take heed from an old dog who learned something: Pride goeth before a fall.
