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When you reach a certain age, your doctors begin asking the question.
Have you had any falls in the last six months?
For a long time, the answer was no. It wasn't that I was graceful and blessed with the balance of a Flying Wallenda. But I was definitely more agile 25 or 30 years ago than I am now.
There were the occasional mishaps.
I once tripped on the front steps while carrying a bunch of stuff in from the car. All those items prevented me from face-planting in a flower bed. Another time, I went outside after a snowstorm and discovered the hard way that icy, snow-covered steps aren't very forgiving.
About three years ago, I woke up in the middle of the night after going to sleep early with a cold -- thanks, NyQuil -- and watched the end of a movie I'd started earlier. When it was over, I shut off the living-room lights and started down the hallway to the bedroom.
Or so I thought. In the dark, I made a wrong turn and instead of being at the start of the hallway, I was facing the stairs that led down to the front door. I took a step out into nothing and promptly went rolling down the stairs and landed on my back on a wooden bench/coat rack and tumbled to the floor next to the front door.
I laid there in the dark for probably 20 minutes because I could tell it was going to hurt like hell if I tried to get up. Eventually, I pulled myself up via the door knob and half-crawled up the stairs to sleep off the pain and embarrassment.
The latter was easier to leave behind, because it turned out I'd broken my back. Well, a vertebrae in my lower back, to be precise. But breaking your back sounds more dramatic. An X-ray confirmed the initial diagnosis and an orthopedist said, "If you're going to break one, you picked the right one. It will hurt for a couple months, but you'll be fine. You don't need surgery or a brace."
His parting words were, "Take some Tylenol and ask your primary-care physician if you need something stronger."
I wanted to say, "I'm in my 50s. I'm already doing my part to keep Tylenol in business."
But he was right. I took some Tylenol for a few days and my back did hurt for the better part of 6-8 weeks, but that was the end of it.
That was the end of my pratfalls and unintentional tumbling for a long while, until a couple of months ago when I somehow forgot how to walk and use stairs.
It started innocently enough. I walked into the clubhouse at a golf course and tripped. It really does happen in slow motion, just like when I fell down the stairs. I tried in vain to regain my footing, but eventually realized that was fruitless and leaned into a roll and eventually stood up and walked to the counter to pay.
The two 20-somethings working there didn't laugh, but I wouldn't have blamed them if they did. The kid -- yes, 20-somethings are kids to me -- said, "You know, I did the exact same thing you just did when I came for my job interview."
He might have just been trying to make me feel better, but if not, at least he still got the job.
A couple of weeks later, I had to go out and take a photo of my license plate to upload to the interwebs. Instead of lacing up shoes, I slipped on a pair of golf sandals that had Velcro straps. But I was too impatient to fasten them and when I got outside, the Velcro from one sandal attached to the Velcro on the other.
You can see where this ridiculous story is going, right?
I didn't realize the peril of the situation until I took one ill-advised step and went down hard on my right knee, shin and thigh.
Again, slow motion and I had the time and clarity to think, "Now you've done it. You'd better minimize the damage or you'll end up with a broken hip like your friend." (Yes, a friend of mine ended up getting an emergency hip replacement after trying to vault over some stuff his kid left on the living-room floor in the dark one night.)
Somehow, I ended up making the best of a bad situation and ended up with just bruises -- to my knee and pride.
I played 18 holes at Riverview the next day and didn't play any worse than I usually do, which should tell you all you need to know about my golf game.
But wait -- there's more.
Two weeks after that, I decided I didn't need to shuffle carefully down the steps at work like an old man anymore, missed the last one and ended up with two scabby knees.
I've been more careful since and I think -- knock on wood -- that this rash of falls has ended.
Maybe it was payback for all those times I made fun of the old lady in those "Life Alert" commercials.
"I've fallen and I can't get up!"
Credit to her -- she had one line and delivered it like she was trying to clinch an Academy Award.
But when I was watching that commercial and mocking the line as a teenager, I never dreamed I'd be the one on the floor.
Reach Tribune Chronicle and The Vindicator Editor Ed Puskas at epuskas@tribtoday.com or by calling 330-841-1786.