No.1: Becoming a Virginian
No.2: Snow Days in My Village (Ashby Ponds#1)
No.3: Month Four: Settling Little by Little
No.4: The Grace of a Fall


No.５: TO OVERCOME BEING A STATISTIC

Six weeks after my fall at the bocce court, I went for an X-ray and saw the spine doctor, a neurologist. He looked at his computer, asked how I was doing, and instructed me to walk down the hall.

I asked, “Can I see the X-ray?” I needed to visualize the damage in my spine that had caused so much pain. The X-ray showed five box-like lumbar vertebrae, with the exception of the middle L3 compressed into a wedge shape. The doctor pointed out that the fine horizontal line showed the compression fracture was healed; the wedge was permanent.

He told me to immediately stop wearing the brace and “put it away,” and that I could resume all my previous activities. (He didn’t ask what they were.) I barely had time to request an order for physical therapy before he wished me “Good luck” and was out the door.

I knew he was rushed, running an hour behind schedule, but I needed to process this abrupt news.

That afternoon after my nap, I automatically reached for my back brace. I never foresaw that it would become my “new, best friend,” protecting me and helping me feel safe in its cocoon-like embrace while I healed.

~~

The CDC says that falls are the leading cause of injury for adults 65 years and older. Each year, over 14 million, or one in four older adults reports falling, but less than half tell their doctor. Falling once doubles your chances of falling again.

Now I understand why staff at our on-side medical center ask at every visit, “Have you had any falls since you were last here?”

A large, well-equipped physical therapy center is conveniently located on campus. I wore my back brace to my physical therapy (PT) evaluation and initial session. My therapist understood when I told her that my lower back hurts without it. I told her my goal was to regain fully my previous functioning for a June 7-23 trip to France.

Over six weeks, my PT guided me in strengthening exercises for my core, legs and upper body, and in improving my balance, both standing on the floor and on a foam pad. At the end of each session, I received 20 minutes of electrical stimulation applied through four electrodes attached to my lower back. Some days I overdid it while doing the full regime of exercises at home, and my lower back reminded me with pain and soreness. To navigate on the trip, I walked up and down stairs again, and outside on all surfaces. My PT taught me how to walk properly with walking poles; I practiced in the long hallway outside my apartment and outdoors.

Most reassuring of all, my PT told me to take and wear my back brace as needed—transferring in the airports, sitting on long coach rides, walking on uneven surfaces. And she left my case open for follow-up sessions as needed when I return.

~~

Bocce ball is big at Ashby Ponds. Over 400 residents play on 40 teams during both spring and fall seasons. Team members wear matching tee shirts with their team names, like the Wholly Rollers, Lawn Rangers, or Rolling Stones. The whole team sits on the sidelines, cheering on the players on the court. It can be competitive, with play-offs and a champion crowned at the end of each season.

During my long wait in the emergency room, I made a vow that no one should be injured the way I was. We’re all older adults playing in somewhat unsafe conditions on the bocce courts. I knew that to get anything changed, I would need to get to the top administrator. Once the pain decreased, I made an appointment with the executive director. By then I was able to approach this without anger and blaming, but in a mutual problem-solving mode.

As I sat in the waiting area, the director came to his office door to acknowledge me and said he was handling something and would be with me soon. I received this text from my friend: Man fell at bocce. Same circumstance as your fall. Cracked his head bad on the concrete. Emergency crew is here now.

I didn’t need to introduce myself or why I was there. To convey the seriousness of the problem, I read the text I received from my friend. He said, “I know. That’s what I was handling when you arrived.”

We met for nearly an hour. He wanted the specific details of how my fall happened, the response from security, and any ideas for remedies or improvements. I showed him the photo of the court, recommending that he and his staff visit it and observe playing. I suggested yellow paint or caution tape to visually delineate the edges, and maybe gates at the end to buffer a fall.

Several weeks later, my friend reported that yellow tape had been applied to the top edge of the open areas on the ends and sides, and the black railings had been tightened. Management met with the team captains about discussing court safety with their players.

My captain checked on my recovery and invited me to join our team’s games, but I told him I was traumatized and not this season. He said he understood. He fell backwards while playing pickleball here and was knocked out and taken to the ER; he’ll never play pickleball again.

~~

In our meditation and journaling class, our instructor Madhu read from Dr. Sanjay Gupta’s book, Keep Sharp: Build a Better Brain at Any Age, where he described visiting the Dalai Lama and being invited to meditate with him. As the Dalai Lama observed his struggle, he offered Dr. Gupta a type of meditation called analytical meditation. When Madhu asked if we would like to try it, no one responded more enthusiastically than I.

Madhu instructed us: “Put a problem you are facing in a bubble and meditate on that bubble. Don’t create a story about it, just observe and be mindful.”

I put my dilemma of finding purpose and meaning, here and at this time of life, in the bubble. The bubble expanded and expanded until it encompassed all of life and the universe. It grew so vast I feared it would burst. But when I returned to my words “purpose and meaning,” the bubble collapsed, deflating like a balloon losing all its air, all its life.

I was trying to define purpose and meaning—limiting them—instead of allowing myself to be open to experience and life in all its vastness and mystery and unknown.

As the spirituality teacher Rupert Spira writes: You simply cease separating yourself from the rest of the universe and thus allow the universe to fulfill its purpose through you.

For now, my purpose is to heal from the injury in my fall and to regain my strength for the France trip. The rest will take care of itself.
◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇
To be continued...

Japanese version