Controlled collapse

          Oh dear there go the iron levels again…that hasn’t happened for a while. I was hoping I’d left the worst of being one of “those women” at “that age” behind me, there was a time when the iron would drop once a month, I’d like to say as regularly as clockwork, but I wasn’t lucky enough to be that regular. But it’s a rare occurance these days.

          I was reclining on the sofa, poking away at the puzzle page on the tablet Hubby bought me for Christmas when I glanced across to my coffee cup and saw it was empty. I made a decision, there an then, to move myself from the settee and go make another coffee. That’s about as exciting as my world was at the time. An instant decision from me is rare, but add to that the immediate spring into action from the sofa in the room, to the kettle in the kitchen and my whole being could quite possibly have gone I to shock. I reached the “Coffee station” and grasped at the worktop, the kitchen span, and my legs buckled from under me. Instinctively I closed my eyes and lowered myself to the floor.

          It’s no big deal really, I’ve done the same thing thousands of times before, fighting against the inevitable bottom shelf just causes injuries, going down gracefully generally injures nothing more than my pride.

          There’s notthing seriously wrong with me to make me fall over, the only medical reason is when I’ve got low iron and I get dizzy, but I’ve got that under control (most of the time). My main problem is my spacial awareness, or lack of, my brain tells my feet where to go, but somewhere between brain and feet, the message gets scrambled, sometimes it’s because my brain gets distracted before it’s sent the whole message, other times it’s because my feet haven’t caught up with the last thing they were doing and so get left behind. Either way, I’ll miss my footing or take a trip and the rest of my body just shrugs and goes down without fighting. Its easier that way, then I just pick myself up and off we go again.

          They say you can tell how old you are by what happens after you’ve fallen over… If everone looks concerned and asks if you’re OK, then you’re getting old… If they laugh, then you’re not. It’s OK, Hubby laughed… Then helped me up… Then insisted I found my iron tablets and force-fed me a vitamin with my lunch.

          I remember as a child, quite a young child, my Mum used to faint a lot. She would just go down like a sack of potatoes and crumple into a pile on the floor. We learned that it was best to just leave her where she was and wait for her to wake up. I think I remember one time when she went down in the kitchen, I rolled up a jumper or something similar to put under her head and pulled the kitchen rug up over her to keep her warm. Apparently, waking up underneath the dirty kitchen rug on the kitchen floor wasn’t one of my Mum’s more delightful memories.

          Writing the title to this post, my mind wandered off to another controlled collapse to give me a photo, when the power station chimneys in “Didcot” were reduced to rubble…”KA-BOOM!”

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