It comes as no surprise to my circle of family and friends that I would break something necessary to the enjoyment of my Florida Panhandle winter vacation in a lovely beachfront condo. A lovely beachfront condo on stilts with a staircase of twenty steps leading to the front door and the living level. A lovely beachfront condo with a flight and a half of steps leading to the second floor bedrooms.
In my circle of family and friends, I am a well-known klutz. I spill things. I tear things. I drop things. I knock things over. I trip over things. I fall over things. I break things. After spending only one glorious week in the lovely beachfront condo, I managed a trifecta.
I tripped on a concrete block in a mall parking lot.
I fell over the concrete block in the mall parking lot.
I broke my left hip when I hit the pavement after tripping and falling over the concrete block in the mall parking lot–after which the entire Milky Way Galaxy appeared before my eyes.
Other galaxies joined the Milky Way when I was shoehorned into the front seat of my Baby Sister’s vehicle and again when I was extracted from said vehicle at the emergency medical center. My agony increased exponentially when I was informed of the break.
Two painful thoughts immediately sprang to mind: the surgery I would have to undergo to repair the hip, and all those stairs at the condo that I would not be able to climb without weeks of physical therapy.
There went all our winter vacation plans and our non-refundable, paid in advance rental fee for the condo. Bummer. We would have been better off had we remained in Michigan. I know for a fact that I would have.
The irony that surrounds this unfortunate incident? The concrete block that I tripped on and fell over in the mall parking lot, breaking my left hip, was located in a handicap parking space.
What are the odds?