Earlier this week, I got up from my desk. I noticed that my leg was partially asleep and that I might not have 100% control over my leg. I walked to the hallway anyway. I was wearing my brand new harry potter snitch socks. They are so cute. I raised my leg to take a step down the stairs when my legs went out from under me, and I managed to fall. I tried to catch myself. I failed. I fell all the way down the stairs till I landed on my bottom in the kitchen. I felt like Kevin from Home Alone all the way down. It could have been fun if it didn’t hurt so bad. I royally bruised my backside. Almost instantly bruises started popping up on my back and bum. We decided I didn’t need to go to the ER. I hadn’t hit my head on the way down or do any sort of tumbling. Just bumped down on my tush the whole way down. And even if I had broken my tailbone, they wouldn’t do anything for me but give me some pain meds. But, as you can guess, it was excruciating to sit. We dug out a cushion that we had bought for mom when she fell. It helped some but not enough. I tried old pain meds, but we figure they were too old because I didn’t get relief.

So, yesterday, I went to see my doctor. He was entirely understanding, and he agreed that because of the way I fell, a trip to the ER wouldn’t have been necessary, just costly. He poked around my backside, and I didn’t exclaim YEOW anywhere, just a lot of tenderness, so he doesn’t think it’s broken. We both agreed that my scar tissue, cellulite and fat might have protected my tailbone. Never have I been happier that I was fat. He sent in a script for a stronger anti-inflammatory. I was able to pick it up last night and we even got ice cream for dinner. I’m really grateful that the fall wasn’t worse than it was because it could have been really terrible. I’ve promised that I will slippers in the house from now on. The kind with a nice rubber sole. But that is how I’m leaving 2023 with a bang, boom, crash.