This is a repost inspired by my daughter’s recent tumble down our basement stairs. I shared photos on Instagram and it reminded me of this story from 2012. I thought I’d dust it off and share it again here.
Stair Scare (Originally posted March 2012)
Falling down stairs happens more often than you’d think. Accidental falls, including down stairs, sends 1,800 Canadians to the ER every day. Source
My friend “Sarah Sorebottom” (not her real name LOL!) currently holds the record in our friendship circle for stair surfing. She gained extra points for breaking her bum, not once, but twice. Not to make this into some kind of painful stairing contest, but my last fall was at least a ten pointer.
As a self proclaimed klutz, my surprise trip down our stairs was actually no surprise at all. Slippery wooden stairs and a love of fuzzy socks? I’m amazed it didn’t happen sooner.
Swollen wrist and bruised ego aside, I survived. But as I lay on the floor in a ball, I cried through big baby tears, “I could’ve…sob sob…broken my… sob, sob….neck.”
No joke—falling down stairs can cause serious injuries and even death. (Googles real estate listings for bungalows or homes with elevators.)
Did you know Queen Victoria, as a young woman, was forbidden to set foot on any stairs without holding someone’s hand for fear she could potentially fall? Historical fact. Look it up. Or just watch “Young Victoria” starring Emily Brunt like I did.
Our daughter is the “Victoria” of our manor. She is not allowed to go down the stairs without her hand being held or up the stairs without somebody flanking her from the rear. Unpredictable seizures, moments of dizziness and a delay in over-all gross motor skills justifies such caution.
Her Educational Assistants adhere to the same rule. She is never on the steep (and busy!) stairs at school without assistance.
Lately at home however, we’ve been allowing her a little more independence; occasionally letting her climb the stairs on her own. I might be a nervous Nelly, but I’m not entirely impractical. I realize that learning to climb stairs safely is an essential skill. Don’t laugh, but when she practises climbing up and down the stairs, she wears her bicycle helmet. I wish I was kidding. But head injuries are one of the most common and serious injuries related to stair falls. She also practises climbing stairs at her physio sessions. I love those padded cushy stairs.
The mechanics of climbing requires practise. Repetition improves motor planning, coordination, and concentration.
Practise may not make perfect because accidents be accidenting (as demonstrated by her latest spectacular 2023 tumble down the basement stairs) but at least with experience and motor/muscle memory, falls are less likely.
But, after my near neck snapping, I’ve had a bit of a setback in terms of stair climbing confidence. I mean, if somebody as sure footed as me (ha!) could stumble…
Out of curiosity I Googled, “Stair related deaths or injuries in Canada.” DO NOT RECOMMEND. Lotta deaths via stairwell that I can’t unknow about now.
So we’re back to hand holding and flanking, at least when Avery is tired or feeling unwell.
I’d probably feel more comfortable if we had carpeted stairs (and foam pits on each landing). I have my eye on a lovely oatmeal coloured super soft and cushiony *berber…
*Whenever I say berber, it’s always in an Alfred Hitchcocky murder mystery voice like this; “Berrrrrbah.”
Hey, know what celebrity has wall to wall carpeting in his mansion? Justin Berber. LOL! Oh man, it’s possible I hit my head when I fell….
While I was searching for this old story about “stair scares”, I stumbled (and fell) upon this silly story below. It’s a “you had to be there” situation but man, if you were there, you’d still be laughing at the sheer clumsy awkwardness of it all.
I’m Yelling Timber (Originally Posted January 2014) *Alternate Titles… “I’m Falling For You” and “May I Offer You A Crotch Cookie?”
I trip more than the average person and for no apparent reason. I rarely wear heels and the terrain around my house is completely flat. So what gives?
We all have our “things.” My things are puns, getting lost at least three times a week (in my own neighbourhood even) and falling down.
Fyi — this is not alcohol related. Pour me a glass of Pinot Grigio and I’m pretty darn graceful. I only fall over when I’m dead sober.
Coincidentally, Wii Fit pegged me at 68 years of age with extremely poor balance. The cocky little Mii asked if I tripped a lot. I laughed and nearly fell off the balance board.
My last fall was a comical episode. The kind of slapstick funny that pops into your head days later causing you to laugh out loud by yourself at the grocery store like a ding dong.
While visiting family in Michigan this winter, I was worried about slipping on the ice and breaking my butt. They had just had a significant flash freeze, so I was extra cautious and managed to remain completely bipedal.
However, while traversing the carpeted indoors one evening after dinner, I let my guard down. I made my way from the kitchen to the family room, carrying a tin of cookies. As I leaned in to offer my sister-in-law a chocolate biscuit, my foot somehow snagged on the ottoman and I fell in extreme slow SLOW motion. One hand firmly holding the biscuit tin, the other clawing at the end of the couch in an attempt to prevent a fall, I was left armless. I locked eyes with my slightly horrified sister in law as I ever so slowly fell face first into her lap.
My family’s reaction was a hysterical mixture of confusion, concern and then awkward embarrassment.
“When did you become such a klutz?” my brother asked. I couldn’t answer because my face was buried deep in denim.
My loving husband cleared things up by saying, “Oh she’s always been a klutz It’s just gotten worse.”
“You can’t play on the stairs. You can play at the bottom, but not at the top. Or on the stairs. You could fall. I fell down the stairs and have a black eye. But it doesn’t hurt. Always hold the railing on the stairs. Don’t run. And don’t wear slippy socks.”
