“History of falls” is a diagnosis found on many patient’s charts. It is just as serious as hypertension, CVA or even diabetes. That’s because falls mean possible fractures that, in turn, can be life threatening.

Since I’ve been falling most of my life, this diagnosis will someday be on my chart. I just can’t see me changing my ways after all these years. One of my spectacular falls I remember in detail. That day will live in infamy. I was assisting a rather large, stately woman to the bathroom. She was using her rolling walker correctly, and things looked hopeful.

This particular patient was notorious for being unpredictable. I was clueless as to what lie ahead. As we approached her bed, I took my left hand and smoothed her draw sheet. This is a good nursing habit, having done it many a time. Well, my patient decided to let go of her walker, throw both arms up in the air and fall backwards. Being a good nurse, I attempted to break her fall with my own body. In other words, I made my body a living sacrifice. Here we both went, down and backward, landing inside her bathroom door. We were twisted together like a pretzel. I thought to myself, “I’ve gone down with Big Bertha!” I tried to free myself, but was unable.

My patient’s face was now inches from mine, and she was smiling. With my breath fogging up her glasses, I tried to yell, “Help!” No one came, of course. There was a patient sitting in the hallway who must have seen the spectacle. She said sweetly, “Bless your heart, honey, I’d help you, but I can’t get out of this wheelchair.”

I tried “Help!’’ one more time and then yelled as loudly as I could for a nurse by name. All at once the room was filled with nurses, cna, even the maintenance man. It took about four of them to pry me loose; I do believe there was a crowbar involved. All the while my patient continued smiling innocently. The funniest thing is that no one was concerned about the patient, at least not at first. All around me I could hear, “Kaye, are you all right? Are you okay? Someone get vital signs on both of them! Do you need to go to the ER?”

I replied weakly, “Just help me up on my feet; I think I’m stoved up, that’s all.”

The lady was sent to the ER for evaluation and was fine, no fracture. I wasn’t surprised, since she took about 2000mg Calcium + D every day. Her bones were probably hard as granite. I will always remember Big Bertha’s sly little smile. One of my best friends and co-workers told me, “I think she did that on purpose; did you see that little smile?”

Kaye Ella Steadman lives in Chickamauga. She is a storyteller, published writer and author of the book “The Girl in the Mirror.” She can be reached at kayesteadman@aol.com or follow her on Facebook or Twitter.