Earlier last week we had a really good evening with both the girls (aka not constant screaming from both of them). Etta and Chloe both wanted to go to bed early and the bedtime routine went along smoothly. Eric finished reading to Etta while I snuggled with Chloe, which is unusual for her. I put her down with no fussing and left her room with an empty milk bottle.
I came down the stairs thinking what a nice evening it was with the girls and wished every evening could be as pleasant as that, until my slipper slipped out from under me and I fell the rest of the way down the stairs. I have thought about falling down the stairs since moving here. That may sound a little pessimistic of me, but not really when you think of how steep the stairs are or how small each step is. Most Japanese people are small therefore with small feet, not like me with my 9.5 sized women feet. I've thought about, "What would happen to the girls if I fell down the stairs, died, and Eric wasn't around?" But most of the time I've just thought about falling and not much damage happening.
The last thing I remember is rounding the corner of the staircase, my foot coming out from under me, hearing Chloe's bottle hit at least two walls before hitting the ground, then knocking down the baby gate at the bottom of the stairs. I don't recall anything about the actual fall, probably because it lasted a microsecond. I started moaning and crying and I heard Etta calling out for me from her bedroom sounding scared. Eric shortly came out of the family room and grabbed a hold of my shoulders. Then I felt like I was waking up from a nice deep sleep but with the feeling of someone holding onto my shoulders; yep I passed out. Eric asked if I had hit my head and I told him no since that wasn't the part of me hurting.
He brought me into the family room to sit down and I cried for a long time holding my arm, I was sure I had broken it. After a long while we decided to wait the rest of the evening to see if anything got worse, to make sure nothing was broken. We sat and watched a movie, yet I don't even remember what it was. I was traumatized.
I took a pain killer from when I threw out my back and had a rough night sleeping. I propped my arm up on my pillow for a little more comfort to little to no avail. The morning came and I did feel better, then I undressed finding the multitude of bruises from wrist to ankle on my right side. My wrist, forearm, elbow, top of my arm, hip, hamstring, and ankle all have war wounds. At least it's not summer time, otherwise most of them would be visible and Eric get a little of questioning looks. My most impressive bruise is on my hip, which is surprising because that isn't the sorest place on my body.
Now that I look back at it I can chuckle, but also sit wondering when it will happen again. My feet are too cold without slippers, but at the same time are a little slippery for the stairs.