Last Tuesday was a big day. I got up early to help my x-wife Cathy and her boyfriend Dan move themselves and my daughter across town into a different home. Now, I honestly don't mind helping out a bit, since mainly it helps my daughters, but also that I like Cathy and Dan and wanted to be nice and help.
But, lemme tell ya, I'm not 30-years-old any more.
Here it is Friday night, a full 3 days AFTER the move, and I'm just now recovering and feeling back to my normal self. I've had aches and pains the likes of which I haven't had since... well... ever!
The fact that I fell out the back of the 24-foot truck probably didn't help.
Dan rented a big, 24-foot (I thought it was 28-foot, but whatever, it was big!) truck with a lift gate in the back - the kind you stand on and it lifts you up to the level of the truck floor, and vise-versa. Very handy little contraption, helps with the heavy things. So, I'm standing up inside the truck, moving some things around, when one of my girls decides to lower the lift-gate so she can get up inside the truck, too.
Mind you, I knew the gate was going down, and I saw it go down, so this is all my own fault.
But as I stepped backward out of the truck expecting the lift-gate to be there, I discovered with my right foot that the lift-gate indeed was NOT there, but was about 18-inches lower than the truck floor. Naturally, not possessing the gift of levitation, gravity acted upon me and I plummeted to the lift-gate floor.
At this point I ALMOST saved it, since having stepped backward into clear space, I eventually landed on my foot, and immediately began a roll to the right so I could absorb the impact on my hands. The only problem with that was that I was already near the edge of the lift-gate platform, and my roll to the right put me about a foot-and-a-half out in empty space.
So, again, gravity went to work and drew me down off the edge of the lift-gate. By now I had completed my rolled and was face down, trying to break my fall with my hands. My thighs and shins banged hard on the metal edge of the gate as I fell headlong onto a small stack of dresser drawers that were waiting to be taken into the house. They actually helped break my fall, since they sent me spinning again to my right, and as I actually hit the ground, I was making a slow roll onto my right side, avoiding a hard smack on the ground in favor of a scraping roll.
Now, this whole episode took what, 3 seconds? But it seemed to take at least as long as it took you to read the account. As I lay on the ground, I went through a Data-like system check in my head, slowly working my way down from my cranium to my ankles, verifying that I was either fully functional, or at least not permanently damaged.
I finally rolled over on my back, and began laughing, assuring everyone that I was OK. My poor daughters were horrified and thought maybe I'd killed myself. It was a pretty big tumble, after all. One I'm very fortunate to come away from with just some bruising, some pretty good scrapes, and some very, very sore joints, a left shoulder in particular.
So sore, in fact, that it's taken 3 days to finally feel something like my old self.
It's hard to admit, but I'm not 30 anymore.