With An Emphasis on Hobbling

Here in the northland, as we like to call it, April is not the cruelest month (cf T.S. Eliot. No, on balance, it's January.

Last year, during a long stretch when all the roads and sidewalks seemed to be coated with ice, I fell down a lot, most memorably in front of a downtown restaurant where I entertained the diners with my struggles to get up...to the point where one started getting up from his seat, motioning with his hands and asking the question with his mouth, "Do you need help?" Being a guy, I refused in order to conquer me by myself.

Several months previous, I tripped over an uneven pavement stone in London on my way home from the theatre. Only my hands stopping my fall kept my face from the emergency room. As I looked up, I saw a queue of people waiting for a bus; most of them had the expression of "Poor old guy - probably drunk." I struggled to my feet, and a fellow in a dark overcoat carrying a briefcase, stopped and asked if I was all right.

"I think so," I said. He asked where I was going, and I named a nearby tube stop, and so we set off together. During those several minutes, he asked me a number of questions, and I soon realized that he was assessing my state to determine whether I should be seen by a doctor. I passed the test, and after thanking him, I turned left and took the stairs, very carefully, to the Monument Underground Station.

I think often of him, how kind it was for him to stop, and how generous it was for him to take subtle steps to see whether I required further assistance. He set a standard for me, and I have tried to find ways to reciprocate for his kindness.

Anyway, when you get to my age, you find your balance somewhat more precarious and you worry a hell of a lot more about falling down. So when I endured last winter and my several failures in traversing icy stretches, I knew I needed to re-evaluate.

I work on my balance through exercises and work in a therapy pool, I am extremely careful about footwear best for ice. In fact, I now have a number of choices, from soft rubber and deeply treaded slip on boots to rubbers from Canada with molybdenum tips sticking out of the bottom for extreme situations.

Once upon a time, I assumed that my years as a somewhat inept hockey player would have taught me to fall. That belief ended a number of years ago when my feet went out from under me on some ice just outside the building where our offices are, and I landed on the back of my head. I was out cold for a few seconds, then found I couldn't get up, so I crawled into the building on my hands and knees and found the first open door to be that at the tea room. They were amused when I crawled in, an occasion when my sense of humor preceded me when I wish it hadn't. The kind ladies got me into a chair until I regained full mobility.

I called my doctor who listened carefully and suggested that I probably had a mild concussion and that I should not make any important decisions for three or four days, because, he said, I would be "goofy." I felt pretty good, but it turned out he was absolutely correct.

In addition to footwear, I have added a hiking stick with a molybdenum top, but most importantly, I have altered my attitude.

These days, I take my time, plan my steps, use a lot of salt and sand around the front of the house and the drive. I get a bit worried about my titanium hip when I should probably worry about its perfectly normal companion, and I know that some of my friends go south for the winter for the warm weather and such, but perhaps because the risks of falling are somewhat diminished.

So if you see somebody trip, slip, or collapse, get involved and ignore any comments about being fine, please don't bother, and the like. You might be in the same pickle some time down the road and will be grateful for the assistance of others.