I was beyond excited, already grinning at the mere fact that
I was visiting a new city, staying in a beautiful hotel suite (feeling like a
Queen) and about to visit the architectural work of Frank Gehry. I’m his #1
fan—but he doesn’t know that.
As we rounded the corner to the Pacific Science Center, I
saw the Seattle Space Needle peeking above the tree line, behind it hints of
the colorful and wiggly work of Gehry, his architectural signature in contoured lines of bended metal sculpting the EMP building.
Giddy as a teenage girl, I’m armed and ready with my Canon
arsenal dangling from my right shoulder. I’m wide-eyed and smiling ear-to-ear.
I can’t believe I am here!
Just around the next bend, we’re almost there, just a few
more steps to my own personal amusement park of architecture and…BAM!
The pathway, lacy concrete block style pavers, specifically made
for grass to grow in between the decorative gaps, proved to be more dangerous
than met my eyes and greeted my feet. The ill perceived evenness skewed by its indifference
to shadow and light, under the typical overcast Seattle sky. My right foot
caught by an unexpected elevated section, sent me flying—and by no means was
this first class with champagne and steaming warm towels.
I knew in my heart that I would not be recovering from my
own body’s trajectory. It’s incredible just how fast the mind works. Tried as I
might to adjust my core to right myself with invisible wings, I shifted into a
preparation for landing, which was no more than a thought, less than a split
second acknowledgment to myself that I was going down, with no landing gear to
speak of.
I’m sure you’ve experienced the phenomena of time slowing
down during events like these. Yet in reality, it all happened so fast. My hands
instinctively lifted up and came forward to protect my body and my face from
the now inevitable impact with the ground before me.
Down, down, down. My
eyes closed shut tightly. I mean who wants to see what’s coming right? Pain
starts to register in so many places my brain can’t file the information quite
that fast. What to attend to first? I feel the bulk of the impact in my right
breast. I landed on my camera. The lens that had been pointing out and away had
somersaulted inward and broken my fall. I would learn later that my fall had
also broken my lens. (Side not to Apple, the rest of the trip was photographed
with my iPhone!)
My eyes remained closed for a while. It was better that way
I thought. I began to scan my body, check-in on my own collateral damage. I
rolled over onto my back, knees bent and up. I hear Steve saying “Don’t move…
don’t get up.” I wasn’t going anywhere. The information continued to pour in on
me, over me. Broken bones? Nope, don’t think so. No need for the bone density
test. Check! I can feel certain parts radiating out in painful reaction. The
top of my right foot, palms of both of my hands, my knees and elbows and my
right breast. That’s going to hurt. I had no clue then just how true my thought
would actually manifest.
As I laid on the ground I could hear people as they passed by
speaking in concerned tones, asking “Is she okay?” After some time, I slowly
rolled up with assistance to a seated position and today as I think back to
that very dazed moment in time, I was in some kind of altered state. Somewhere
between here and there…
Fast-forward one year as I reflect today on the,
count-them-on-less-than-two-hands, pain free days, I remain grateful and for
the healing hands that continue to bring me back to my whole being. I’m sure
there are many great lessons to be learned, as of this entry I have not met them
all…yet.
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