Facing the Future

Last November, three days before I was set to celebrate a significant birthday, I had a freak fall—aren’t they all—and broke my pelvis in two places. I was hurtling through city streets dodging vehicles and pedestrians, composing random sentences in my head, when I tripped on uneven pavement. I landed in an intersection on my right side, still clutching two heavy bags of books and shoes. I was lucky. I was not run over by a car; I shattered a bracelet instead of my right wrist; I did not break a hip (as I insist on reminding all of those well meaning friends who continue to enquire about my bone density—just fine, thank you) and good Samaritans rushed to my aid, cell phones unleashed, eager to dial 911 for emergency services.

A foolish combination of pride and shock compelled me to refuse an ambulance. With the aid of a passerby, I reclaimed my feet and slowly stumbled the three blocks to my destination. There, adrenalin spent, I collapsed and gratefully accepted...