And that’s when I peed my pants… again.

So yesterday, when I was publicizing the – FLASH FREEZE WARNING – I should have realized that it would come back and bite me in the ass.

By 9:45 a.m. the puddles were already sporting a thin sheet of ice.   I found myself in a a reverse time-lapse of the spring thaw.  In my well-laced Sorels, I picked my way tentatively across the back alley by St. Michael’s Church.  I was doing my best to channel Wash from Firefly “I am a leaf on the wind… ”  The gusts would not affect me, they would only propel me on my journey.  I was rock steady.  My toes were antennae in front of me, my gaze firmly on the frigid pavement.  I could actually see the crystallizations forming ahead of me in the path of the wind. 

When I was in my early twenties – I’d taken a wicked fall while heading down an icy hill towards my apartment’s dumpster.  It was a prat fall of cartoon proportions – the conclusion of which had me landing so hard on my ass that I put a hairline fracture in my tailbone.  For months afterwards, I was terrified to walk on anything but a level surface.

Congratulating myself on my courageous trek across the frozen terrain, I ramped up my confidence and  headed cross-country towards my office.  Stump. Stump.  Stump.  Not slipping here, no Sir, not me.    Stump. Stump.  Stump.  Carefully going uphill.  Stump.  Stump.  Stu….  An instant of footing uncertainty – the adrenaline of catching myself before the fall creating the perfect conditions for a slight panic pee.  Seriously?!?  Steady on my feet, shoulders now slumped, I cursed my lazy pelvic floor.  Okay, no more cross-country for me.  The short cut across the skating rink of a lawn, even in my Sorels, was too hazardous to contemplate.  I walked on the road and arrived alive.

By the end of the day, the wind had picked up.  David had suggested that he could pick me up on his way home from school, but I poo-poohed his concerns.  If I walked I could already be home by the time he even got to the office.  Nope, I was good. I was now confident in my walking ability.  I’d stick to the salted sidewalks.   

I should have just walked on the road, with the cars. Two near falls and two more brief panic pees had me cursing and vowing to do more Kegels at home.  Heart pumping – now doubting myself, I barely had time to register the fall when it happened.  I was up, up, up in the air and then I was down – hard – on my ass. No time even to curse – barely time to acknowledge that the most recent of panic pees was bigger than the previous two.  I lay there stunned, but already finding the bright side.  Though the pain in my ass radiated throughout my entire body and I had peed my pants even more – I knew that I hadn’t landed directly on my tailbone.  Small victory to be sure, but so much better than the alternative.

When I tried to get up, my ass and hips wouldn’t cooperate.  So I just lay there for a bit – the cold on my ass already helping with the swelling. When I did turn over, my knees slipped from under me and I was flat on my stomach – now I’d knocked the wind out of myself.   I had to laugh. It was ridiculous – I was ridiculous.   Someone should have videotaped it.  I crawled from the sidewalk onto the road.  I’m not sure, but we may have entered a new geological age in the time it took for me to push myself to standing.  It was still another 10 minutes of carefully picking my way along the road before I made it to our street.  Every few moments I would cheerfully call out to the other crazy people attempting to travel by foot,  “Careful!  It’s icy down there!”  I would point to where I’d been and then point to my own ass in Canadian Winter Sign Language.

I shuffled towards sanctuary.  The sidewalk in front of our house and the stairs were already salted and safe.  My husband, who had offered to pick me up at work, who worried for my safety, had beaten me home.  The irony was not lost on me.