Well, Brigitte takes good care of me and I AM on my bed, but the subject line could have been a true one if what could have happened the other day happened.
I have a typical apartment porcelain bathtub and I like taking a bath, not a shower. So that day I was still groggy after waking up. After washing my hair with the flexible shower head, I was ready to get out. I unplugged the bath, turned off the shower and made as to stand up; this consists of putting both hands on the sides of the tub and pulling myself upright.
However, the cleaning lady had done the bath the day before and the bath mat -- the kind with suckers -- had not completely married with the porcelain.
So as I was three-quarters upright, my right foot slipped on the slimy bathmat and I began TO GO DOWN BACKWARDS. In an instant, while it was actually happening, I parsed the damage: the back of my head would have smashed extremely hard against the back tile, first, causing certain unconsciousness, maybe a fractured skull or a subdural hematoma, but then my body would have collapsed, my spine catching the lip of the tub in the back and probably fracturing several vertebrae. It would have been quick, over in one second or less, all 160 pounds of me dropped from four feet (my hip height) to a hard porcelain surface (imagine dropping a 160-pound sack of tomatoes onto concrete from four feet and think about the damage).
It would have happened, make no mistake about it. Those two or three seconds would have changed my life irrevocably.
If not for the safety rail I'd installed a dozen years before, for when my parents visited. My hand whipped out so fast for that rail you'd need a high-speed camera to see it. It stopped my fall cold. Bolted to the side wall, it's one of those ubiquitous things you see in hospital bathrooms.
IF it hadn't been there . . . people, I might right now still be breathing through a nasal tube with several worried relatives standing around my bed and wondering whether or not to take me off life support.
One word of advice after this happening to you: don't try to chop vegetables. You'll be shaking so hard realizing what could have happened that you'll just end up cutting off the tip of your thumb.