Accident Prone. Clumsy. Bad Luck.
These are all things I’ve heard tossed around with my name. These are all things that even I’ve tossed around with my name. I am incredibly prone to disaster. It will find me. It doesn’t matter how careful I try to be. It just seems to happen anyway.
Yesterday, I lost my balance, fell into something sharp and got a cut and bruise (through my clothes) on my leg. Last night, I pulled the box of dish detergent out from under the sink. It swung back and hit me in the shin. Two days ago, I was walking upstairs and caught my smallest two toes on my right foot on the door. It ripped the skin. The day before that, Tom and I were playing with the dogs. Sam got so excited that she ran and jumped on me…the result being three side-by-side bruises from her claws on my thigh. Last week, I was playing with the dogs, running backwards, lost my balance, and landed (hard) on the left side of my behind. I was sure that my tailbone had gouged a hole in the hardwood floor, I hit it so hard.
That was all in the span of 7 days, friends. And those are just the things that I can remember.
In my life, so far, I’ve had a complete fracture in my left wrist, I’ve had a severe sprain of my left ankle, I’ve sprained both knees, I’ve knocked myself out, and I’ve stabbed myself in the left hand, severing the radial digit nerve (I’m starting to see why I’m so extremely right handed and footed.) Those are just the serious injuries. They don’t include the times I’ve knocked off toenails or fallen down stairs or had car accidents.
I think something in my subconscious is out to prove Murphy’s Law true. Recently, my friend, Jessica, laughingly reminded me of something that happened in college. I thought I would share it; It’s a story that I don’t mind the world knowing:
My junior year of college, I was very excited to wake up to a warm, sunny day in early spring. It was finally warm enough that I could wear shorts and short sleeves again. So I donned that type of outfit and got ready to go to class. I was feeling pretty good about myself because I was going to get to class early, or, at the worst, on-time, if the buses were running late. I hated being late to any classes, but I really wanted to be on time to this class (Biology) because we were assigned a group to sit with all semester, and part of our grade came from group evaluations.
For some reason that day, I was wearing glasses instead of contacts. It should be noted that I have HORRIBLE vision. Peripheral vision is pretty much non-existent for me when I wear glasses. I should have known the morning was going too well.
I stepped out the front door, and began to rummage in my purse for my keys, as I normally did on the way to my car. Our townhouse had a long step (about 3 feet) made of concrete that sloped down to the sidewalk in front of the parking lot. And the sidewalk was sloped down towards the parking lot as well. But, without my peripheral vision, I didn’t realize I had already come to the step. And I continued walking. And fell face forward. My purse, my bookbag, everything landed on top of me. I, myself, landed on my arms and knees. Then, thanks to the slope of the sidewalk, I slid forward right after impact.
Apparently, Ol’ Murphy wanted to make sure I’d been gotten and gotten good. That darn fall was bad enough, but sliding forward ensured that my skin would be left on the concrete. I looked left and right, saw no one about to laugh at me, jumped up, and ran into the townhouse again. At this point, I didn’t need to look down. I could feel the blood dripping down my legs.
I was bleeding no small amount on my hands, wrists, elbows, and knees. The knees were the worst, with bits of sandy gravel stuck in what was left of the skin. I cleaned up the best I could, put bandaids all over my wounds, and took myself off to class. There was nothing to be done about changing. Jeans would have rubbed the bandaids off and made my knees worse. Same for long sleeves and my upper extremity trauma.
I found myself getting some sideways glances and even open stares on the bus. As I walked into Biology, my group stared and asked what had happened to me. I was bleeding through the band aids, and I looked like a kindergartener who had fallen down at recess, but I had made it to class on time….barely.
It took a couple of weeks for those scabs to heal, and we were well into shorts season in Georgia by that time. I had to go about like that with band aids, then scabs, then scars for a while. But by this point in my life, my knees pretty much are just made up of scars, so you usually can’t distinguish any except when they’re new. I’ve fallen down quite a bit in my life. At least when the scars do show, you have a funny or interesting story to tell.
And one good thing about being Murphy’s victim? You learn to laugh at yourself. Everyone else will. You might as well join in.
Surely I’m not the only one though. Anyone else have a Murphy’s Law story to share?