When Life Trips You Up

They say life can change in the blink of an eye, and I am here to tell you that it can. One minute I was a healthy, independent 73-year-old walking through my front door after a long day, and the next I was lying shattered on my hardwood floor, unable to move, with no phone in reach and no one expecting me for days. That fall — tripped backward over a stick vacuum I had been too lazy to put away — is the one that started it all. It is the reason I am writing this, the reason you are reading this, and the reason there is a Grab & Go emergency checklist sitting on my kitchen counter today.

I did not see it coming. Nobody ever does. I had come home that Thursday evening, taken off my glasses, and set my phone down somewhere in the living room. The stick vacuum was lying across the doorway to my office — right where I had left it that morning, telling myself I would put it away later. My left foot caught the main head, and I went flying. I came down hard on my left side, and I knew instantly that something was terribly wrong. My left arm had gone flying behind my head, my elbow felt like it was full of gravel, and my left leg would not move. I had shattered my elbow, broken my arm, and fractured my leg in three places. I was alone, on the floor, and it was only 7:15 in the evening.

The Long Night

What followed was the longest night of my life. I spent over four hours on that floor, scooting on my back four inches at a time, using my right foot against the drywall and my right hand grabbing the door trim to pull myself along. I dragged myself 20 feet across a hardwood floor and a thick wool Persian rug, trying to reach my phone or anything that could help me. I toppled my coffee table onto myself with a child's putter to get to my phone, only to have the battery die the moment I tried to text 911. I lay there thinking I was not going to make it. I was at peace with that, too — I had lived a good life, and I was ready to drift away.

But then the warrior in me showed up. I remembered my car keys were in a bowl on the bar table. I fished them out with my right hand, hit the alarm button on the key fob, and held it down. Nobody came. So I tried a pattern — three presses, a pause, then again — and after the seventh time, my next-door neighbors came running. Bruce slid open my front door, Charlie plugged in my phone and called for help, and EMS arrived in minutes. I was saved. It was after 11:30 at night.

200 Angel Caregivers

What happened next is the part I want you to really hear. When I fell, I had always been the caretaker — the one who showed up for everybody else. I was the friend who brought the casserole, the daughter who moved her mother in at 81, the neighbor who checked on everyone. I did not know how to receive help. I did not even think I wanted to. But that fall flipped the script on me, and I had no choice but to let people in.

And they came. Oh, did they come. Over the weeks and months that followed — through the hospital, through the rehab facility, through the long slog of physical therapy — I counted them. Friends, neighbors, church family, people I had not heard from in years, people I had helped once a long time ago who remembered. Doctors, nurses, therapists, aides, volunteers, the woman who brought me a rose-gold pen that said “unstoppable,” the man who shoveled my sidewalk without being asked, the friend who sat with me through the hard afternoons when the pain was at its worst and the progress felt impossibly slow. By the time I was back on my feet, I had counted over 200 people who had shown up for me in some way. Two hundred angel caregivers. I call them that because that is exactly what they were.

Recovery taught me to walk in faith instead of fear, to be a better listener, and to let a whole village show up for me. Kindness, I confirmed, absolutely makes a difference. I will never forget those 200 angels, and I will spend the rest of my life trying to pay that kindness forward. That is a big part of what debbiedidstuff is all about.

The Grab & Go Emergency Checklist

While I was healing, I could not stop thinking about how close I had come. I lay on that floor for over four hours because I was not prepared. My phone was not charged. My car keys were not within reach. No one knew to check on me. I had no plan. I survived because of stubbornness, a child's putter, and a car alarm — but I should not have had to rely on luck and improvisation. Nobody should.

So I sat down with a notebook and wrote out everything I wished I had done before the fall, everything I wished I had had within arm's reach, and everything I want every person who lives alone or cares for someone who does to know. I called it the Grab & Go Emergency Checklist, and I have been sharing it with everyone who will listen ever since. Here it is, in full, because it might save your life the way I wish it could have saved me a few hours of terror.

Keep These Within Reach

• Your phone, charged, every single night. Plug it in beside your bed, not across the room.
• Your car keys, in a consistent spot you can reach from the floor — not buried in a purse or a bowl across the room. That key fob alarm can save your life.
• A list of emergency contacts taped to the fridge and programmed into your phone: family, neighbors, doctor, pharmacy.
• A charged backup phone or a wearable emergency button if you live alone.

Have a Check-In Plan

• Ask a family member or friend to call or text you every other day. If they do not hear back, they know to check on you.
• Give a trusted neighbor a key to your house and let them know your schedule.
• Tell someone — anyone — when you are going to be home alone for several days with no plans.

Clear the Walkways

• Put away every cleaning tool, cord, and clutter item the moment you are done with it. That stick vacuum should have been in the closet.
• Secure all rugs. Do not layer rugs over carpet — that ridge will trip you.
• Light every room and hallway you walk through, day or night. Use nightlights by the bed and in the bathroom.
• Install grab bars by the toilet, in the shower, and beside the tub. Move heavy items to lower shelves so you never reach above your head.

If You Fall

• Do not let anyone pick you up. Wait for trained medical help. Well-meaning people can cause more injury.
• If you can reach your car keys, use the alarm in a pattern — three presses, pause, repeat — so neighbors know it is not a false alarm.
• Stay calm. Breathe. Conserve your energy. Panic uses up the strength you need to problem-solve.
• If you have a phone, text 911. Many counties now accept text-to-911 even when you cannot speak.

Why I Wrote It All Down

That fall is the one that started it all. It is the reason I picked up that rose-gold pen and started writing again. It is the reason I have a newsletter, a shop, puzzles, and a dog named Maggie who greets me at the door like I have been gone for a year even if I just walked to the mailbox. I survived a fall that should have ended me, and I came out the other side with 200 angels in my corner, a body full of titanium, and a fire in my belly to share everything I learned so that maybe — just maybe — someone else does not have to learn it the hard way.

That was the issue that started it all — a stick vacuum, a shattered arm and leg, 200 angel caregivers, and a checklist that might just save your life. This is where debbiedidstuff began.