What I Learned from a Fall Down the Stairs

It was a typical Saturday morning. I was attacking the laundry pile, planning for the upcoming week, and completing housework. I recruited my children to help with the polishing in the bathroom. Jaycee dusted the doors. Elijah wiped down the baseboards. I worked on the wooden vanity. When we were done, the children were released to do whatever they wanted. They both ran to their electronic devices. Elijah started watching videos in his room. Jaycee sat in her spot on the couch to start a marathon of YouTube videos.

I gathered up a few more items I needed to take down to the washing machine located in the basement. Unbeknownst to me, my socks had collected the furniture polish that had settled on the bathroom linoleum floor. As soon as my foot hit the first wooden step, I was doomed.

I bounced and fell down the entire flight of stairs. My feet, left arm, and hips took hit after hit as I descended rapidly. I yelled, "Ow," several times on the way down. In an instant, it was over. I remained at the bottom where I landed trying to check my body and recover from the shock.

Stock photo-not the actual stairs that injured me

Within 30 seconds, my daughter made her way to the top of the stairs. She was still holding her beloved iPad as she asked in her broken speech, "Mom, you ok?" 

"No," I replied trying not to cry. My arm was throbbing. 

Jaycee dashed away from the steps out of my sight, but I could hear what she did next. She ran to her brother's room and cried, "Bubba, Momma!" She repeated herself a few times on the verge of tears. 

Elijah finally yelled out, "Mom, what's Jaycee saying?"

I couldn't respond to him. Yelling from the basement wasn't possible with my pounding head. Soon, he asked Jaycee to show him, and Jaycee led him to the stairs where my laundry was scattered about just above where I was. 

Thankfully, I was merely sore for a few days and acquired some large bruises, but there was no major injury. I rarely find myself in a situation where I am in need of rescuing, but I did need help that ordinary day. 

I was so proud of my daughter. She heard the fall. She checked on me. She got help. She did everything correctly. Despite having Down syndrome, an Intellectual Disability, and limited verbal speech, my daughter was able to assist me. Even though I wished my slick socks hadn't led to a terrible fall, I'm glad I discovered what my daughter could do. 

On that day, she was my hero!