Good News, Bad News

The Good News is, when the ladder spit out from under me, I got launched horizontally, so the impact forces would be spread out along my body and not concentrated on a single location.

The Bad News is, when the ladder spit out from under me, I got launched horizontally, so I couldn’t do any of that fancy hit-tuck-roll Parachute Landing Fall to arise unscathed after terrain contact.

The Good News is, when you’re only falling from eight feet, you don’t have a long time to agonize about how bad it’s going hurt.

The Bad News is, I’d already seen the rock wall I was going to land on.

I hit--in order--left knee, right knee and (simultaneously) forehead and previously-shattered left wrist.

I did a mental anatomical inventory after all the pretty twinkling lights faded:

1. Head--felt like a moonbat’s right after he discovered he was in love with Anne Coulter. Tinnitus has switched from low whistling tone to cicada chorus. Verdict--possible mild concussion.

2. Neck--stiff but functioning. Verdict--no major damage.

3. Torso--aching ribs, but no stabbing pains indicative of pointy-object intrusion. Verdict --no major damage.

4. Upper limbs plus extremities: left wrist owwwwwwww. Verdict--probable sprain.

5. Lower limbs plus extremities: both knees owwwwwwww. Verdict--bloody frikken mess, but operational; initiate clotting and skin regeneration toot-sweet.

I rolled (well, kinda slid, actually) off the rocks to view the collateral damage:

1. Ladder: left rear support leg twisted like an Amish funnel cake, both attaching hinge struts folded in half laterally. Verdict-- totaled.

2. Acuba bush the ladder landed in: minor damage.

3. Rock wall I landed on: completely undamaged (when I build something, I build it to last, by Neddie Jingoes).

4. Butterfly house I was attempting to hang from overhanging hemlock limb: (peering at remains under left arm) salvageable.

Okay, it didn’t hurt all that much to roll over, so let’s see how sitting up feels. Aching head (expected) but otherwise--

Geez, I didn’t exert myself all that much--why is the sweat dripping in my eyes?

Ooooops. *Not* sweat.

Stand up, hobble-weave to garden spigot and run the hose over my (still-aching) head until the water isn’t pink anymore. Wash hands and perform Braille exploratory. Verdict--two or three minor gashes.

I decide to forego further ladder work for the remainder of the afternoon.

Soooo, seventeen hours later, I’m still hearing the cicadas going full blast, but the headache has faded to an annoying background throb, the abrasions are starting to heal and I can use my left hand as long as I keep the Ace bandage on the wrist.

KtLW’s reaction?

“You fell off the ladder an hour ago and you’re just telling me *now*? Great--we’ve got company coming, you’re a filthy mess and--aaaacckkkk!--you didn’t break the *ladder*, did you?”

*sigh*